Alternate careers for resident poet
When the news is all doom and gloom, it’s nice to be able to count on our summertime resident poet, May Rose Salkin, to smatter the letters page with perfectly metered verse exploring such breezy topics as crossing the street, eating cookies, sitting on benches, eating cookies while sitting on benches and crossing the street some more.
But have you ever wondered what the letters section of our local newspapers would look like if May Rose had chosen a different career, but still felt the need to put pen to paper and weigh in daily in her own unique way?
No, of course you haven’t. Because it isn’t your job to wonder such things. It is mine, however, so …
May Rose The Bitter Waitress
This morning I made coffee,
It tasted pretty crappy.
You took a sip and made a face,
Which made me rather happy.
The lunchtime crowd can kiss my ass,
For tables I must turn.
And as for those who stiff me,
In hell I hope they burn
May Rose The Personal Injury Attorney
My croissant is quite warm this morning
There’s nothing better tastin’.
But then – A screech! A scream! A crash!
And I’m off ambulance chasin’.
So cross Main Street I sprinted,
As if I’m in a race.
I have to get there lickety-split,
If I’m to get the case.
Street crossing, you may recall
Is not a skill I’ve mastered
I ran into a cyclist
I’ll have to sue the bastard
May Rose The Scary Mall Clown
There’s nothing strange about a clown
Whose dog wears red pajamas
Here kid – a phallic balloon sculpture
Get a dollar from your mama
May Rose The Drug Dealer
I’ll have some ‘shrooms for Halloween
Just forty bucks a quarter
You know how quick they get snapped up
You’d better place your order
Want liquid L from Fogtown?
Come by and get a squirt.
I just got bud from Santa Cruz
That’ll knock it in the dirt
May Rose The Pharmacist (Technically still a drug dealer, but totally different poem)
I love to work with little pills
All blue and white and red
Both Prozac and Viagra
Go straight to your head
If you wonder why I’m smiling
I guess it is worth noting
I fill your script most happily
‘Cause I’m so ripped on Codeine
May Rose The Highway Flagger
Each day I eat a bran muffin
While standing by the road
And when it does its job I’ll visit
The plastic, green commode
You may think that I’m saying “Hi”
As my hand moves towards the ground
But what I really mean to say
Is “Slow that #%*! thing down!”
May Rose The Narcotics Officer
They legalized weed in England
In Aspen schools they canceled DARE
Should this ugly trend continue
Whatever shall I wear?
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