Negotiating Poetry

do you have any spare change, sir?
   there was a fire, and i had no
     insurance.
            lost all my best work.
(naw, i’m tapped)
no
    no
        i’m not going to buy
 
a bottle of Thunderbird,
 
               only
  
saving up for a computer
  and the full version
   of Word.
i’m the re-embodiment of Robert 
            Frost.
            (don’t like Frosty)
what did he ever do to you? 
            (Frost is too accessible and
                  the masses love him)
            
i actually meant that i’m the 
            reincarnation of Bukowski.
(aren’t you about 35? 
            too old to be Chucky redux?)
 27 and what did Bukowski do to
                        you?
            (alcoholic and too many poets 
                   love him)
 
you sound jealous. what about
            Sylvia?
(please)
            Marianne Moore?
                                      (gotta)
            Keats?
                                      (go)
 
want a blow job?
            (for three pencils and a ream 
of 20#?)
    i don’t swallow 
            (i’m not fond of sonnets)
throw in a floppy?
        (deal. just don’t recite any
                        e.e.)