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The Nerve


He thought I was a carnie. And never had I been so insulted! Not
even when Alex Gordon called me a dirty wetback in third grade.
A carnie! “Excuse me. Where do I buy tickets?” Was it because of
my basic blue tee and distressed denim pants I purchased yesterday
from the GAP? Perhaps my disdain for shaving, hence my 5 o’ clock
shadow maybe more like 6, but even so. Doesn’t he know I’m allergic
to hay and meager pay, and I have health insurance? Not to mention
I hate traveling, crowds, and corn dogs. A carnie! I haven’t even had
to do community service. And I graduated high school with honors,
college even. And when he left because my disbelieving stare wasn’t
the answer he was looking for, I tapped him on the shoulder making
sure to give him a piece of my mind. “Excuse me sir…The ticket
booth is behind the Porta-Potties.” Huh. A carnie…


About Daniel Romo

Author of When Kerosene's Involved (Mojave River Press, 2014) and Romancing Gravity (Silver Birch Press, 2013). I'm partial to prose poems. Alliteration. And fragments.

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