Ripping Off a Copy of a Robert Frost Book at Babbitt's
Newspoem 23 February 2000
(for Brian)
Whose store this is I think I know.His house is up in Normal though;
He will not see me stopping here
To in my coat this volume stow.
The cashier's bored, I think he knows
Between the poetry and prose
Are where you find the darkest rows
To shove a book deep in your clothes
He gives the register a poke
To ask what is the fucking joke.
Of all the poets you could pinch
Why did you choose that windy bloke?
The store is lovely, dark, and hip,
But I have poems off to rip,
I like that one about the wall,
I like that one about the wall.