Poem: Banter

She said wear some of those comfy pants to your next poetry reading.

I said if you see me in those pants make like a scared poacher -

shoot first, then run to the car. She said shame on you to me.

(She said shame on me). Poets she reckoned were an endangered

species. I said enraged species more like. Told her to step outside,

the bloody city is crawling with…