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(A colloquy lifted directly from the Roundtable, by David Curtis and J.Snell.)

"I Don't Care If You Hate This Poem"

The secret to finding love
is to give up.

Surrender to solitude
until you reach the point
where you enjoy it
and don't want
anybody in your life.

And then sure enough
someone you can't resist
will walk into
your tranquil little world
and turn it into a living Hell.

—David Curtis

Dear David,

So when can I expect you?


Dear Missy,

Well, Thursdays are good for me. Wednesdays are bad because "South Park" is on. Tonight I'm busy watching a Janeane *sigh* Garofalo video. Actually, I have to go see DOGMA again this week so let's try for sometime next Monday or Tuesday. Saturday I'll be hungover and Sunday I'll be busy in church asking God for forgiveness for writing such a trite piece of poesy. Beep me and I'll have my answering machine call your answering machine and they can do lunch. I think something real might come out of all this.

The Only Person That Has Ever Loved You For You,


Dear Dave,

Friday works for me, what a co-winky-dink!


Dear Missy,

I don't want to hurt you, but ... this relationship is starting to suffocate me. You KNOW Friday is my poker night. Why can't you just love me and stop trying to control me? Y'know, I think it was in the Bible, or the Tibetanbook of the Dead, or Men Are From Mars, Women Are from Venus — anyway — oneof those books had this really cool thing that went something like:

"If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it will probably arrive around 4AM smelling like cheap booze and demand you fix breakfast. If it doesn't, make sure you get the house and car put in your name."

Anyway, I cried the third time I read that. And I think it says something about all of us — particularly people we've never met.

The bottom line is I want out and am going to sue for half of everything you own.


David Curtis

p.s. It's not you. it's me.

Subject: "You'll never find...

Dear Dave,

"the rhythm or the rhyme, another love like mine, you'll keep searching and searching your whole life through..."

Ok, I can take a hint, but can I have the breadmaker?

Truly heartbroken (sob),


p.s. You don't have to worry about me, David, I'm going to be just fine, I'm okay really, I really am... and I'm not going to do anything foolish.

You'll get your precious breadmaker back as soon as my Fiona Apple CDs (which somysteriously disappeared the day you had the SWAT team ask me to vacate our apartment) — as soon as they mysteriously RE-APPEAR at my Mom's house (she's a much better cook than you by the way) — then I'll consider returning the said item.

Seriously, I am worried about you doing something foolish — like running up some other poor sap's charge cards, or driving somebody else crazy with your obsession with wedding anniversaries and your birthday and Valentine's day.

And that psychotic jealousy of yours. This is really all about that night with the sheep, isn't it! How many times do I have to tell you I was just trying to help it over the fence! Sure, the animal was drop dead beautiful and had the softest wool I've ever... err, helped over a fence... but she meant nothing to me. You know I only have eyes for ewe. Err, you, I mean.

Had eyes, I should say. You've tested me in the past, love, but this time you've gone too far. Y'know, you're not exactly a spotless lamb yourself.

See You In Court,

David Curtis

p.s. Oh yeah, and that was like SO mature — spray painting the word "strumpet" all over my Janeane Garofalo shrine.

Subject: "Well, Ewe can have him.

Dear David,

Sheep around all you want, David. You're not pulling the wool over my eyes. So why don't you just ram it!

I can hear it now, "Your honor:
David had a little lamb chop
and every where he went
he'd help her over fences —
and as he did he bent."

So what are you getting me this year for Christmas? Shearly something expensive?

Looking forward to fleecing you again,


p.s. It had better not be the "nuttin mutton" line again or your loins are... Oh! and that reminds me, I almost forgot, could you please bring by the breadmaker tonight? I want to make a nice little Shepherd's Pie.

      — David Curtis and J. Snell