Non-scary Poems by DAR

With James Woods In the Elevator

Everyone was convalescing. My old college roommate caught a stroke,

of all things, and another college bud caught a tumor on his rectum,

of all places, and my ex-wife went out and bought herself a double mastectomy,

of all symbolisms, and this went down in the space of about two weeks.

So there I am in the hospital visiting all three and the elevator doors open

and who steps in but the actor James Woods, "the genius actor with a 180 IQ,"

and his no-account, nattily dressed big brother, who’s looking pissed because

strangers like me are always striking up conversations with James and never with him,

a Cadillac dealer or something, and pretty soon James is telling me that Stephen King

is the best writer of all time! In history! You gotta be kidding, I tell James,

and he says, name me one that’s better, just one; and my mind goes blank!

and the doors open again and in walks a nurse who’s the height of James’s fly, and

James shoots me a studiously neutral look, but still I can’t think of a single writer!

So finally in desperation I say +I am, me, Don DeLillo!+ – but I guess I lost

the argument because James never heard of me.