Sitting outside with the poetry Of Mr. D.H Lawrence I feel like I have a bowling ball perched Between my shoulders Heavy and dense Likely to pull me headfirst to the floor at any moment Beside me I sense him glaring at me With his thin and handsome face Eyes rolling Finally he whispers "Here is one you can grasp: 'I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.' Even you should get the gist of that. It was in a movie after all."
