D.R. James
THE DAY I GOT MY TIMING DOWN
It was in that phase of pure
sarcasm, midteens, when guys
work out an awkward stance,
work their pack’s patter
till they maybe have it. I don’t
really remember the day but
the single-moment wonder of hitting
my first come-back just right
by accident, then their free, true
laughter and my perfect follow-up,
the never looking back. From there
a career: from Senior Class Clown,
to smooth talker in any crowd, to
flip teacher spinning lit, to wordsmith
chiseling chin-up come-backs
to the tin-clad sarcasms
every life dishes out as it
disarms or drops you or
leaves you hanging, slamming
its clanging locker door in your
gullible, stuttering face.
—from Rattle #27, Summer 2007
