Finally Rich

Poem By Sam Riviere

I got a job
I got a job writing poems
oh hi I never met you before
going to write you a poem
about your anniversary
your niece's christening
your son's wedding
your uncle's funeral
you provided a helpful ‘factsheet'
full of personal details
your favourite songs and anecdotes
this is my material
the tone is ‘light'
the approach is up to me
you will pay £3 a line
you will pay £5 a line
you will pay £7 a line if rhymed
but hang on
wouldn't a real poet want to get at ‘truth'
you paid for a real poet
how can I get ‘truth' from this ‘factsheet'
the only way to ‘truth'
is saying ‘yo, I don't know you'
and refusing to write the poem in the poem
then I doubt you'd pay me
here's my question
do you want to buy a poem
because you know about poetry
or because you don't know about poetry
think I need to see you
think I need to meet you
think I need to come and stay with you for like a week
perhaps the whole thing will get out of hand
if I get involved in some ‘heavy shit'
I'll write a screenplay about it
of course I'll change your name
the names of my dystopian employers
some bigshot director
will buy the script executive produce
and I'll be rich I won't write any more poems
about your uncle's wedding
your son's christening
your niece's funeral
your bill: £210
happy anniversary

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