Bob Hicok is the author of numerous poetry collections, including Sex & Love &, Hold, and Red Rover, Red Rover (Copper Canyon Press, 2021). Hicok received the Rebekah Johnson Bobbitt National Prize for Poetry from the Library of Congress, as well as eight Pushcart Prizes. He is a professor of creative writing at Virginia Tech.

Speaking American

by Bob Hicok

When he learned I’m a poet he asked if I knew
this other poet. We don’t all know each other,
I told him as he informed me she likes cheese
similes. Love is like cheese, time is like cheese,
cheese is surprisingly like cheese. Then I said
I know this poet and he went, see. “He went, see”
means he said see, see, but you know that
if you’re American and alive. I explained
that “I know this poet” means “I know her work,”
when he was like, work? “When he was like”
is like “he went,” which is past tense of “he goes,”
in case you’re from another country and confused
by our lack of roundabouts. But poetry isn’t work,
he said, unless you’re talking about reading it.

People on couch
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