A man is fighting with a cup of coffee. The rules: he must not 
break the cup nor spill its coffee; nor must the cup break the 
man's bones or spill his blood. 

  The man said, oh the hell with it, as he swept the cup to 
the floor. The cup did not break but its coffee poured out 
of its open self. 

  The cup cried, don't hurt me, please don't hurt me; I am 
without mobility, I have no defense save my utility; use 
me to hold your coffee.

Added: on January 2nd, 2006 at 1:59 PM | Viewed: 2345 times | Comments (1)

Poet: Russell Edson
Poem: The Fight

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