Sweet & Sour Poets

The handbill plastered on the lamppost
Advertised a reading by a local poet
The poet had full lips
Sensitive eyes
Thick hair
Gentle features
A warm smile

His new book of poems was just out
And for $5 I could listen to him
Read
In a coffee house
All proceeds destined for the Food Bank

I’m sure the poet loves his mother
And gets along with his siblings
I’m sure he drives a hybrid car
Casts his ballot in every election
Takes in stray cats
I’m sure he pays his taxes
And recycles aluminum cans

I’m sure he’s never slapped a woman
Cursed a cab driver
Stiffed a waiter
Embezzled money
Or puked in the gutter after a long night
Of bar crawling

His poems are probably sweet and uplifting
Lyrical
Celebrations of beauty and truth
The glory of sunsets and the magic
Of a harvest moon

In other words he’s full of
Crap
A pretender
A liar
A charlatan

He’s blind to the grimness of human existence
The cruelty and suffering inflicted on the powerless
By the powerful
On the poor by the rich
On the weak by the strong

I slipped a buck to a panhandler
And walked on;
I despise poets
Except
Of course
Old
Chuck Bukowski