straight up bitching

on friday night
i was able to make a noisy room
shut up and listen

to what i had to say

but you were not there to see it

on saturday night
i helped a room
thick with silence

(in that way where you could hear
the crickets dropping pins and
smell the tumbleweeds stampede)

and you were not there to see it

on friday
before i went to the party
where i would see everyone i saw
at the party on sunday
and would've seen
at the party on saturday

i was screwed over
by a venue i've never played
before

i performed and won the crowd over
in two
had my mike hut
in a twonce
finished and stormed straight to my car
where i cried
because i'd been drinking

and you were not there to wipe the tears
(& that is why they fled)


there's a line in one of the poems
that i didn't get a chance to read

that paraphrased

asks if i should give up the goat
the way i put down the pipe
and forget this little writingactingdreaming dream

that i ask myself all the time

and am asking now

along with that question
of
where will you be
next time
when i don't see you?

[i have a nagging fear that i am guilt tripping
(here). ]