Cruel Fucks At A Reading

Posted on January 20, 2005 in Compassion Poetry

When the young woman they drafted for the reading collection came around to me with the hat, I put in a dollar for the poets. A thought went to my lips and got stopped there by my conscience. “Do you really enjoy being a Boy Toy?” is what I wanted to say to she who wore a tight cotton blouse and designer jeans? But I smiled, put in the dollar, and said nothing. I kept my sadness to myself.

I doubt that she reads this blog and I won’t name her. Only a cruel fuck would hunt her down and tell her what I said here. Only a cruel fuck would tell her that this kind of thing will harm her reputation and that she needs to get even with me. But cruel fucks used her last night. And, I dare say, I was a cruel fuck for thinking what I thought. She has a mind. She has feelings.