2 September 2003 | Vol. 3, No. 3
Old Dog, New Trick
Man walks into a bar with his dog and says to the bartender, "You wanna buy this dog? He recites poetry." "I don't believe you," the bartender says. "Show me." The man turns to the dog and says, "Go ahead. Recite one of the poems you wrote." The dog clears his throat and says, "My love is like a red, red bone." The bartender can't believe it. "Holy cow, that dog just recited poetry!" the bartender exclaimed. "You could make a fortune off it. Why would you ever want to sell it?" the bartender asked. The man looked down at the dog and shook his head. "But he writes such bad poetry," he said.
About the author:
Jack Conway's recent publications include: Rattle, "My Picnic With Lolita"; the Antioch Review, "The Robert Lowell Memorial Bowling Trophy"; the University of Iowa Press, "That's What Happens When You Let Hamlet Play Quarterback"; the Peregrine Review, "The Military History of a Meal"; Light, "I Found American Literature's Wallet"; Ralph, "When Billy Collins Met Anne Sexton" and the Norton Book of Light Verse, "Clothes Make the Man." His book of poems, Life Sentences, was published in 2002 by North Country Press.
For further reading:
Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 3, No. 3, where "Old Dog, New Trick" ran on September 2, 2003. List other work with these same labels: poetry, prose poem, light verse.
