Imitation Entries Week 1

Entry 1: Going off Professor Dr. Katie Chaple's poem on pg 74...

Across the sucrose stained countertop, I am waiting
for a middle aged paper pushing divorcee to ask
for what I already know he wants, White Chocolate Macadamia
and a Sugar cookie, for his four year old, who
"gets her attitude from her mother,"
while giving me a toothy grin and an eyebrow
that asks if I'm interested
and I wonder, what if,
what if, I pushed against this crumb caked tile
and sprung against the counter shoving my fist
toward his mouth, scattering napkins and straws
causing security to abandon their segways to do an actual job, for once,
just for being like every other scummy man his age
who thinks he can talk to a 20 year old girl
like she would be lucky to sleep with him?
And I wonder if his wife left him
or if he left her for somebody
like me, like a child. Did he want someone younger
or dumber? For someone who wouldn't mind
the 300 calorie snack he feeds his fat daughter?
I click the side of my purple phone to light up the time
and wait, like I have for four years, for this man
to ask me for what he wants
so I can give him what he wants
or at least part of it.

Entry 2:
Working with the poem "Paramour" by Angie Estes on pg 67

Named for a Shakespeare's shrew
they called me "Kate,"
and just that, which means
"pure" in some
language that isn't my own.
Named me, after a girl,
(a girl!) with a screw
or two loose, bad
tempered and stubborn.
The truth is, I didn't have
a say in the matter.
He named me as I appeared
to be, and I guess
he knew before I had a chance
to change his mind.
Who doesn't want
to be called something
other than the name
we're give? The older
I grew the more I proved
that a rose by any other name
would be a different
flower. Daddy
could have called me
Juliet, or Bianca.
But I was named for
the bitch in the story,
the too true screw loose
shrew in desperate need
of an attitude adjustment.