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“All poetry does not have to rhyme, Harriet,” I said.
“I know, but what can I say? I’m simple. I like poetry that rhymes. I’m going to have to give it a three out of ten because not only did it not rhyme, it was kind of pornographic.”
“Oh, because you really care if something’s pornographic or not,” I said. “You who had sex in a haunted house.”
“Really, Polly?” Harriet screeched out, and Chelsea burst out laughing.
“Now, now, children,” Chelsea said ironically, as she was the youngest. “Now I will tell you my score, but only if you promise not to kill me.”
“Why would I kill you?” I said, glaring at her.
“Well, you know,” she said, shrugging.
“Tell me,” I said.
“I would give you an…” She looked at my face, and I looked at her, and she wrinkled her nose. “I’d give you a solid seven.”
“Wow. Thanks,” I said.
“Yeah. I mean, it was cool and all. Maybe if you went to a poetry slam, you would win.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “Maybe.”
“Hey, guys, we’ve got to go, but we’ll meet you later,” Harriet said.
“Sure,” I said.
“Okay,” Chelsea said. “Have fun at the movies, guys.”
“Bye,” Finn said. And they hung up.
Chelsea looked over at me and shrugged slightly.
“Don’t be mad at me, Polly.”
“I’m not mad, but that was hella embarrassing.”
“I mean, I know it was embarrassing, but just imagine how embarrassed your professor must have felt reading that. It wasn’t that bad. I mean, you’re talking about people about to have sex, and the protagonist is giving a hand job.”
“The protagonist is not giving a hand job,” I said.
“I mean, that’s what I kind of got from your poem.”
“Well, you kind of got the wrong thing,” I said.
“I’m just saying.” She shrugged. “Maybe, just maybe, working as an attorney won’t be the worst thing that could happen to you.”
“Wow. So now you’re saying I’m a shitty writer.”
“No, but I am saying you’re kind of a shitty poet.”
“Thank you,” I said. “That really means a lot coming from my own sister.”
“I’m just saying, girl. I remember poems from when I was growing up, and they were better than that.”
“What poems do you remember from when you were growing up?”
“I don’t know. Like Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty dumpy—”
