Henry Bladon is based in Somerset in the UK. He is a writer of short fiction and poetry with a PhD in literature and creative writing from the University of Birmingham. He is the author of several poetry collections and his work can be seen in Poetica Review, Pure Slush, Truth Serum Press, Lunate, and O:JA&L, among other places.
‘I’m an experimental poet,’ said the man as he arrived in the restaurant,
(the waiter yawned and thought, not another one)
the poet sighed, ‘I’d be grateful if you could you point the direction to the toilet because I’m struggling to
my onrushing life.’
The waiter waited (as waiters do) until the poet returned and then offered him some freeze-dried grapes that were pressed into a square. ‘An amuse-bouche, sir?’ Not wanting to appear rude, the poet accepted.
As he ate the tasteless titbit, the poet withdrew a notebook from his jacket pocket. His displeasure grew as he reread a poem he had written two years previously.
The waiter interrupted and asked him if he wanted to try something from the new ‘avant-garde’ menu. The poet groaned and ran for the illuminated exit sign.