LJ Idol Week 6 - untitled snippet from a work in progress

With his right hand, Alan Rhodes tipped the tablet back to stare at the two lines on the screen, stirring sugar into his coffee with the other. He repeated them silently, lips moving, wondering why he couldn’t think of a way to finish the little poem:

We know your lives together
Will be joyous long after the wedding kiss …

Bliss? Miss? Hiss? Alan paused, then withdrew the spoon, tapping it against the rim of the cup. “Hiss?” he repeated softly, scrunching his face. “Too early to start thinking of him as a snake in the grass?” He shook his head and put the spoon aside. If he stared at the screen long enough, the letters might leap up and rearrange themselves. The second line was too long; too many syllables. He needed to figure out a way to drop some. “We know your lives together … hold joy long … hold joy after …” He trailed off, willing blood vessels not to explode with the pain of completing the stanza.

Instead, his brain conjured:

This card writer moved to Nantucket
Where he told his publisher “Just fuck it
“I’ve got more things to do
“Than satisfy you
“You can take your pap and go suck it.”

Momentarily pleased with himself, Alan took a quick drink of coffee and chuckled as he set the cup down, keeping his eyes on the tablet. He felt marginally better about the crap on the screen, and himself – it was low-grade second-grade poetry, but that mental limerick hadn’t exactly been a Drama Desk candidate, either. “This can’t be this difficult,” he mumbled, picking up the small metal stylus and hitting the Back button, blowing air out between his teeth until the screen was a blank gray-white again.

A gust of chilly air blew past his table, and he looked up to see the reason for leaving his little writing desk at home today. He didn’t say anything as Michael Connor shrugged off his coat and dropped it haphazardly folded over the other chair, nodding at Alan. He crossed to the counter, and Alan overheard him ordering a latte, something with chocolate and whip. He tried not to think about the upcoming conversation, by focusing instead on the wedding card he was supposed to be authoring.

The artwork (not his!) was two cutely goofy dogs dressed like people, in a tuxedo and wedding gown, noses together in a chaste doggy smooch on the cover. Inside were to be two gem-studded dog collars linked to look like wedding rings. Alan had tossed off a couple of canine-themed poems to his publisher, just off the top of his head, but they were turned down. “No goofiness,” Carter told him. “Just regular, old-fashioned straight sentiment, Rhodes.”

That’s the dumbest thing ever, he’d thought two hours ago when Carter handed it to him, but he’d said nothing. “That’s the dumbest thing ever,” he echoed now, out loud.

( Hidden for length - more story under here )

(Written for therealljidol's Week 6 prompt "step on a crack" as referenced here - not the voting link, I'll post that later.)