like a bad street scene,
this scrabble of ideas
this litter and broken glass
this gang of words--are
messing with me real bad.

pushing me around,
shoving me hard
right up against my understanding,
getting up in my face, taunting me
with some very scary participals,
daring me
to say it right.

they want it all their way
and they’re enjoying the hell outta this.

i'm scared and sweating, and a little bloody.
I don’t see the way out
when suddenly
the word police show up
moving in quickly,

heads tipped sideways,
speaking correctly
into their collar mikes,
one hand hovering
near their Funk and Wagnell’s,
looking up and down
for even a simple article of evidence.

the better dressed words on the street
just walk by
hardly lifting an apostrophe.


all at once
i’m so confused and shaky,
alone and hard-pressed
to explain where those bad verbs came from,
and what that whole argument was all about …
anyway.

- Dale Zeretzke