Dennis, you've got to go.
I don't know who you are
or where you came from.
All I know is that you have to go.
Your name inscribed on my work surface
is detracting from the beauty of the wood.
I can put up with the knife cuts.
Just.
And the ancientosity of the wood.
Very easily.
But your name has to go.
It doesn't fit in here.
So I'm sandpapering you away.
Rub...rub...rub...
Francesca Johnson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dennis-you-ve-got-to-go/
