I’ve been invited to a poetry reading this Saturday. It’s my good friend Jennifer Joseph’s coming-out-party for her new book, Speeding In Reverse.
The poetry will be fantastic, of that I’m sure.
I’m so excited for this I’ve peed my pants three times just thinking of it. I’ll probably have to wear adult diapers the night of the event.
You see, I’m not invited to very many poetry readings (perhaps it’s the overalls and Shetland-Pony-on-a-leash).
So I’m pretty nervous about going and I hope I do okay.
I’m not worried about what to wear. That’s easy. I’ll go dressed as Kahlil Gibran, one of my favorite poets:
Because as everyone says, Every Party Wants To Be A Costume Party. To which my answer is: WHERE’S MY MUSTACHE?
So I’ve got the costume down. But what do I do after each poem is read? I’ve heard sometimes audiences will snap instead of clap. Dang, what if I clap when people are snapping or snap in a clapping audience? Also, I’m terrible at snapping. I’ll look the fool!
I’d better start practicing my snap ASAP. Can anyone help me? ANYONE?
Also, do I bring a gift? I hear wine and cheese is a popular gift. But some poetry people are snobs. Perhaps I shouldn’t bring my good old reliant gift basket of wine coolers and Velveeta.
Miniature Wine. They’re so small. One won’t hurt. Or five. Or seven. Or eight.
Or *urp* nine. Or . . . where was I?
Velveeta. Cheese done up right! ‘Merican style!
Maybe I’ll upgrade and bring her some of those nice Kraft Cheese Cubes. And some wine in big bottles. No one could turn up their nose at that.
No matter with the trivialities. I’ll do my best to fit in and pretend I’m cultured. I’ll have fun bragging about this experience for the next ten years. And NO, of course I won’t stuff my pockets with extra food. Unless she’s serving cupcakes. I’m helpless against them.
And I’ll get to enjoy some darn good poetry. Here’s a taste her talent:
by Jennifer Joseph
kiss me one more time before i give him my heart.
i’ve already slipped from your fingers so make this
last one count. it’s not that i didn’t want
you, but sneaking glances isn’t enough to keep me.
i’ll think of you fondly even though you left me
cold. maybe i loved you a little, maybe a lot.
i have to be careful to keep things separate;
make sure your lips don’t affect me.
i can’t trust what you’re feeling; you’ll disappear
again, break my will again. touch me gently. don’t
leave marks because this can’t last. i knew you
were wrong in so many ways but as it often happens,
the brain points to the heart and says, “i’m with
stupid”. don’t tell me what you’re thinking because
i won’t hold up if you say you still care. i’m
drawn in by your mystery but i’ll be trapped with
i want to sing you a morning lullaby
after a night spent foolishly.
let’s recreate this moment a thousand times;
you are the reason for my january smiles.
Tell me, kind readers.
How do I fit in at a poetry reading?