frustration

Replying curtly to ordinary questions. Guilty.
Wishing I could skip out, not attend this meeting, the one that starts in 53 minutes.
Also guilty.

There's such a thing as carrying an obligation to be punctual and responsible too far.
I can't extend it to courteous, so curt it is.

In my world, poetry and prose aren't done the same day.
I write prose for a living, the kind that lacks poetry.
And I pay for it.

Today I had an angry voice at the other end of the phone line, yelling,
threatening to sic an attorney on me.
According to her, I was guilty of one word in a heading over a letter to the editor.
I would admit no guilt, because there is none.
"Alleged" is alleged, after all.

This person is guilty of so much more. It is a classic case of smoke/flame.
This person would not be so upset if the shoe had not fit.
There are other analogies I could use, but I am too nice.

I have one question for this person:
Who died and made you queen?