at NPR.
they want me to talk about
my writing.
how eclectic it is. accessible
and real
to the unwashed masses.
how would you describe your
art, the woman asks, touching
her chin.
she looks like
an owl. wise with big framed
oval glasses
and a little bit like a man,
but i don't think she is.
i'm sure she went to columbia
or yale,
or brown. i see the light shadow
of a mustache
coming in.
she pauses and smiles, as i
take
a sip of my studio coffee. horrible.
i ask her if she has any snacks.
scones, perhaps?
she shakes her head no, but then
pulls out some
peanut butter crackers from her
purse.
i take a bite, crumbs are everywhere.
about your writing, she says, again.
who are your influences.
hmmm. i say. smacking my lips,
any water, by chance.
she snaps her fingers and a nearby
intern runs
into the hallway
to get me a cup of water.
i drink it, then say hmmm. again.
smart people, writers and poets,
deep thinkers in general
say hmm a lot.
so i do that for effect.
well. i finally say, addressing her
question.
i tap the microphone, is this thing on?
are people actually listening to us on
the radio? i should text my friend
Betty and tell her.
good god the hostess says,
under her breath, please,
tell us who you admire.
well, i say, clearing my throat of a
stubborn piece of cracker.
i get a kick out of sylvia plath
and anne sexton, but
charles bukowski is no slouch either.
and then there's
dr. seuss
and
benny hill.
i'd say most of those have been
a great influence on me.
and throw in
mark strand,
phillip levine and that old stand by
phillip larkin.
she looks at her notes trying to think
what to ask next.
she smiles painfully.
she's in the dentist chair at this point
getting a root canal.
and what is your procedure for writing.
how do you go about creating
your unique art?
do you ponder,
do you wait until the muse strikes,
is it a struggle
to be creative all the time?
nah, not really, i just sort of sit down
and start typing.
excuse me, i say,
but do you guys break for lunch
around here?
it's almost twelve.
i'm starving. i saw a chinese
place around the corner,
maybe we can order in.
a little kung pao, crispy beef, no?
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