I don’t understand poetry.
I don’t understand it at all.
I am usually a mild-tempered
man, but when I encounter
a poem, I feel like I want to
raise hell. Yes, I feel like
I want to smash this laptop
against that door. Or hurl this
chair against that wall. Poetry,
it makes me sick. It makes me
want to pull my hair out of my
scalp. It makes me want to
scream curses against the evening
sky. It makes me want to punch
someone in the face. So, please,
please, enough is enough: From you,
dear poet, not another verse,
not another riddle, not another line.