He read one of the poems of the day
written by a poet who had published
twenty books of poetry. It started
out pretty simple with brown grass
and water and horses in a field but
jumped to speaking in church and
talk of realistic and reasonable and
lots of metaphors and similes and
allusions and symbolism and
lots of other stuff and he thought
to himself that he didn’t have
five years to figure this all out
nor did he want to spend one
more minute in that place so
he bid her adieu and she replied,
“I don’t blame you.”