Wide-Mouthed Frog

During a phone call with The Antiquer on the weekend, he had me dig out our old school magazines; annuals, if you will. He had vaguely remembered a poem written by someone and wanted me to find it. The futile search for the wretched thing was more than made up for by the hysteria brought on from reading through other poems and creative writing.

I know it's mean - I said that to The Antiquer a couple of times: "This is mean, I know." - but I haven't had such a laugh in ages. Tears were pouring down my face and many was the time my caller had to wait patiently while I composed myself and could go on reading. I can't tell you the last time I laughed so hard that I struggled to sit up straight. There was some good stuff too, but the teenager angst was the most entertaining. The whole thing had me on a ridiculous, giddy high.

Then I found a poem I'd written and suddenly it didn't seem so funny anymore.