We gather, and we talk, and they’re at it again. It’s always him. I understand. I’ve read behind the scenes. Michel is right, when all that can be said is written, insanity is just a mistake in etiquette. The straight man makes the laughter. The warm-up act defines the main event. The supplemental figure, the crew’s expendable man, the girlfriend, the victim, the villain (especially the villain), all the same: in twenty pages we keep existence within his grip, take a punch, and head to jail. He thinks he has it all, and everything I’ve been denied – warm bread, a bath, the sex he never indulges in. But I am suited perfectly. In every meeting the advantage falls my way. I never change. I understand why I am here.
© Richard Harrison
art by Jeremy Tankard
Peterborough Poets 