That. Just then.
I was just about to write about Monroe
when I saw that you had just written about Monroe
and now if I go and write about Monroe
it’ll seem like I’m just copying you.

And, sure, maybe there’s enough room
on the gods’ green earth for everybodies’ words
on Monroe, and who cares what anybody might think
about who’s lifting from who,
but damn it, I care about what everybody thinks.

I was just copying somebody the other poem ago
and I don’t want to be suspected of it over here
when I was just guilty of it over there.
Better that I only get caught for it when it really happened.

So now I can’t write the Monroe piece
– at least not until the trail has been clear for a little while.

I give it about ten years.