Last year, at The Clarion, Kari, Lauri and I were screwing around about 5 minutes before the deadline for submission to the Yahara Journal, MATC's student fine arts publication.
"Let's write a poem, the three of us, right now," I said.
Lauri and Kari looked at me with their usual mix of skepticism and amusement. I really am hopeless sometimes. But I wouldn't be deterred.
"Come on, let's write one. One line each. We can do it," I assured them.
"What, now?" "Huh?" "What?"
"Yeah!"
Nothing.
"OK, I'll start. Here. I'll write a line, then you each add one. It doesn't have to make sense," I said. "Let's see if we can do one in less than 30 seconds. Here: My coffee is black today."
Boy, they looked at me funny, but Kari was quick: "As black as my soul."
Our heads turned to Lauri.
"So I added cream." She said it just like Helen Hunt on "Mad About You," then she laughed her loud, hoarse, chemically treated Lauri laugh, a laugh well-known for its ability to carry several miles and peel paint the entire distance.
And, here it is, published in a 'zine. It didn't make the cut for paper publication. That would have been too cool, our quickie poem. What a funny thing to find today while I was looking for something else.
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