Repo Man

We picked up the couch

Because he was on the run

Had to leave town

And go back home

That’s what the kid said to me

From the other side of the room

 

Needed tickets for a bus

And a bottle of booze

Because this place was hell

And he missed home

 

He was ditching his furnishings

Selling what he could

And burning the rest

 

So I bought the couch for fifteen bucks

 

The door to door

Religious sales men

Wandered up the stairs

Just as I kicked the door open

Asking if I was the resident

 

I shot them a winning smile

Laced with vodka

And said

No

I’m the repo man

Have you paid your taxes?

 

Guess God

Told them to go,

From the looks on their faces,

And let me have my couch

 

The running man laughed

And told me I was the one good person in town

I never heard from him again

01/02/2012

0036

Reviews

[.]

Delightful! This is a wonderful poem about a surreal but real episode. I just wish I was there to see the expression on the faces of those who asked you if you were the resident--though I can imagine what it must have been like from your description. Such moments are priceless and powerfully so. Thank you for doing what you did, then writing about it, and then sharing it. This is the poetic justice that happens in real life and it's very inspiring to read about it.

[K.C. Zbryk]

It was a look of shock and horror. One of them nearly fell down the concrete and steel staircase trying to get the hell away from me. I rather enjoyed the encounter.

[.]

Haha! It does seem like you truly enjoyed scaring them off! :P

[Acron 4]

cool poem.....thank for sharing

[Steven]

haha.. Good stuff.

[K.C. Zbryk]

Glad you enjoyed it man.

[Frieda P]

hahaha, very entertaining!

[K.C. Zbryk]

Im glad that you enjoyed the piece and thank you for reading!

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

wonderful, I enjoyed this read.

[K.C. Zbryk]

Im glad you enjoyed the piece, and thank you for reading.