you’ve gotten yourself
into this bar argument
with some friends
about the greatest works
of american literature
and when you mention “bartleby
the scrivener,” everyone looks at you
like you’ve lost your mind
and you’re just standing there
with nothing to say
and no one’s even heard of it
so you try to explain and someone says
“that’s fucked up” and you say
“yeah that’s kind of the point”
and everyone ignores you harder
as they discuss hunter thompson
and jack kerouac
and they try to get you back in on the discussion
but you say, “i would prefer not to”
so after a while people drift off
and you’re standing there
not even touching your beer
and at last call
the bartender tells you to go home
so you do.  and at work the next day no one
remembers what you all talked about
last night and you decide
to let it drop but the days go by
and you find yourself doing less and less
socializing with them so you stay home
and stand in a corner
with your arms at your side
and not eating or watching TV
or even listening to the radio and when they come
to carry you out a few weeks later
someone at work the next day says of you
‘that’s fucked up”
and they’re still right.

Blogged with the Flock Browser

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

2 responses to “Bartleby

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