Tonight I attended a poetry reading at a local coffee shop. Quite an interesting mix, with one poet reading his work while getting a Mohawk (!), a few poetic rappers, a woman who sang her poem beautifully, one describing his experience at a public urinal...I read a couple short poems myself, a first for me.
A Poetry Reading
Tonight, he leans back in the decrepit
chair on the small stage, we listen as he
recounts his twelve hour trips on methamphetamine,
how he diluted a mescaline high by
washing down six packs of Budweiser,
by all counts, every event in his life
accompanied by a cloud of Camel smoke,
yet another beautiful woman in his bed.
Tonight, he leans back in the decrepit
chair on the small stage, we witness his aging face
framed by greasy black hair,
we wonder at what
new has happened in
his last twenty years
and of this,
why he is so silent.
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