What it is

June 2010: In a desperate attempt to stave off senility, the monkey began writing a poem a day. By summer's end he'd begun to run out of versified political rants and philosophical bloviations. Then he hit on the improbable idea of writing micro fiction in the form of Elizabethan sonnets. Eureka. The birth of the "Sonnets From Other Lives" series. Two hundred plus lives later, he's still at it.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

229
Sonnets From Other Lives: Minna

Minna was confused at first and thought
he hadn’t said it—didn’t mean it—but
he had & did & (stupid!) she had not
seen it coming. She just sat there. What
do you mean? I just don’t understand
it, that’s all. He looked exasperated.
Is that why you asked me here? You planned
it all out in advance? The space created
around her was expanding as she spoke.
Nebulae were drifting into clouds.
She went outside & lit a smoke.
Asshole! Had she just said that aloud?
What now? Walk away? Go back inside?
She finally got it. There was nothing to decide.
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