the rix mix

One of the earliest poems I had published was titled "Heaven of 1001 Auto Parts." It was a mildly humorous tale of accompanying a friend to auto parts stores & junkyards in search of a part he needed for his car. Of course, he was Virgil & I was Dante. It would have made an entertaining short newspaper column. I persisted in hammering it into a poem. Later I realized one could make a poem like a cat walking on piano keys, but you couldn't make the cat play "Mary Had a Little Lamb." "Heaven" would never be included in a "Selected Poems," if I were in the process of selecting. But it reminds me I always liked titling poems. Even if those titles were the best thing about them, like a crappy boardwalk souvenir shop called "Treasures of the Sea." You know what's in it, but you go inside anyway.

Labels: about writing