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Monday, October 31, 2016


by Paul Smith

Yes, the magic words

‘Extremely Careless’ comes to mind
Let me interrupt
She didn’t know what “C” meant
Every classified document has a header
But there was no header
The “C” was in the body
She just saw a “C”
C C Rider?
See what you have done
Can’t you see can’t you see
What that woman
Is doin’ to me
That would be a reasonable inference
When you see a “C”
And by the way
It isn’t just a “C”
It’s a “C” in parentheses
It doesn’t matter
You don’t need a header
What does it matter?
There was no “A” or “B” or “D”
There were no other letters
To suggest alphabetical order
There were other emails
Other court orders, but
No bodies
None to speak of
What are words anyway
Just approximations
An integral of convergence
That stretches from Delaware to Nowhere
To Somewhere
From the coal mines of Kentucky
To the California Some
Nobody can deny
That he’s a jolly good fellow
That she’s a jolly good felon
That everyone can deny
That’s what the footer said anyway

Paul Smith lives in Chicago and tries to write poetry/fiction that is apolitical, but sometimes circumstances create a perfect storm where peoples' words are so glorious in their non-meaning, he feels obliged to share his wonder at their mystery, convolution and unimportance.