Ode to Emily Dickinson
A few months ago, a friend reminded me of a little poem I wrote. I had completely forgotten about it – I couldn’t even remember if or where I had written it down. Since he brought it up, I could only remember the last word or two.
About 5 minutes ago, for no explicable reason, the entire poem fell into my head. I wrote it during an American Lit class in college. We were studying Emily Dickinson, and I was divinely inspired. It means a lot to me, and I’d like to share it with all of you.
Mr. Possum trod down the street.
My pedal to the floor.
Mack truck swerves; a delightful bump.
Marsupial no more.
Shit, man, Dickinson by way of Johnny Knoxville. That’s hilarious. Very tight, too. Nice rhyme & meter.
Skink food.
Pshaw – you flatter me, sir.
Yeah, when I become Poet Laureate, my one small, simple request is that Christopher Walken read “Mr. Possum trod down the street” at my acceptance ceremony.