Showing posts from May, 2011

An Evening of Stuff

To the White House for an “ Evening of Poetry ”. Scanning the East Room, I don’t see any actual poets. I mingle about, carefully avoiding Billy Collins. I chat with that girl from 'Til Tuesday . She's overcome severe cat allergies to become a fixture on “adult alternative” radio (or so I'm told).  I ask various people if they've seen Edward Williams, and receive blank looks. One of the guests is a rapper . I try to explain to him that “frabbajabous” isn’t a real word. He gives me a blank look. Eventually the President gives a speech. I give him a blank look. Some doggerel is read. A comedian plays a banjo (why?). As the festivities wind down, a Secret Service agent approaches, and quietly asks me to follow him. After an elevator ride, we walk down a lengthy hallway, through a door, into a martial arts dojo. Standing there is the First Lady, with a pair of aides slathering oil on her nude body. My mind whirls. I realize she wants to engage me in hand-to-hand combat,