I
was asked if I could round up some poets for a reading
And
I said I can’t remember the last time I
Went
to a reading or
Spoke
to another writer
This
was/is by choice
But
it suddenly dawned on me
It
may cause me to be viewed as some
Sort
of misanthrope
Which I am – but for reasons other than
Objecting
to the company of other writers
For
so long now
There
have been no performances
No
poets
No
sitting alone drinking like some
Burgundy
hearted movie star
Jack
and Coke and a keyboard in the corner
There
is zero drama
Everything
is now clean
A
new job
A
grown up brain trying
Desperately
to hold on to
The
memories of why I started to do this
There
are painkillers and toys in the bath and
Early
nights
There
is this underlying happiness
Unsettling
and comforting all
At
once
There
is me and us
But
not really them
Anymore
Nothing
is missing
But
something
Something
is suddenly needed
A
drive under the influence
A
razorblade flashing under a streetlight
Escapades
Screaming
women
A
bottle thrown at your feet that
Makes
you dance one more time.