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Introduction
Sometimes
a poem doesn't come from sitting alone in a dark room in front of a computer
screen, thinking hard. A poet friend and I sat in a bar one night talking
about writing a poem together, so we wrote one. Then he went home and wrote
his version, and I went home and wrote my version. Of course, mine is what
really happened.
Ass-A-Lin
"It's
time you and me did some 'ass-a-lin'"
my friend told me one day.
"Excuse me?" I said, "Just what do you mean
by this 'ass-a-lin' thing you say?"
"A
fine Southern word," he replied with a grin.
"It means not doing anything you have to -
no work, no laundry, no necessary chores.
Just do what you've got a mind to.
"You
can browse antique stores or quaint book shops
or sit on a bank with a pole,
paint a picture, write a poem, or stare at the clouds.
The important thing is to not have a goal.
"It's
more fun to do with a very good friend.
The best time is the fall or the spring.
But this is just my personal thought -
ass-a-lin should be your own thing."
"As
a woman of the 90's," I said to him,
"My time is pretty well allotted.
With work and meetings and programs and such -
to go ass-a-lin I'd have to be prodded.
"This
day's almost gone. Tomorrow's a mess.
Next week there's so much to do.
Next month I'll be busy trying to catch up.
Next year's pretty well planned out, too.
"I
think I'll have time in a couple of years
to go with you to do some ass-a-lin,
or at least have the time to sit down and plan
when there's sure to be no hass-a-lin'."
"You've
completely misunderstood the bloomin' concept,"
my friend ruefully shook his head.
And then, he went ass-a-lin without me,
and took some other girl instead!
Copyright;
Suzie
Jarrett
Email:
akakate@prodigy.net
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