Spoken Word: The Return

IMG_1103 The invite popped up on Facebook. There was a lot of time on my hands and it looked so very interesting. It was a spoken word night at a local fashion house that I had never heard of. Prior to the death of a dear friend, I used to attend spoken word events at a special poetry house. One Erotic Poetry Night turned fatal as I put my head to slumber. Upon waking I learned that the kind hearted owner had been shot on the premises. With his departure, I left that world for other things without ever looking back. Saturday nights used to catch me in his poetry house simply admiring the poets. This invite inspired me to do it all over again.
Upon entry into the fashion house, I knew that my feet were taking me back to a place that felt so comfortable. My presence had been made for less than five minutes, and I already knew that I would return in the near future. The smell of the incense carried me to a place of familiarity. The hostess gave me the grand tour and introduced me to the owner of the house. The kind DJ bought me a drink. The night started off on an awesome foot. As the show got started, my custom made ear plugs came in rather handy. I wanted to enjoy the show without being disgruntled by the loudness of it.
The world music began with an ancestral drumming. I had never seen such a performance in a secular setting before. It was a pleasant surprise. A vocalist began crooning over the guitar, and she looked oh so vocal. She had the body of what would be considered a true queen: she was a big girl and sang like it. Her performance was the highlight of the night. Suddenly, the strong smell of alcohol interrupted me as did the now skunk scent of the incense. A feeling of escape soon overwhelmed me. I rushed into the arms of the hostess as I saw myself out.
When I entered my sanctuary, incense was burned and an alternative radio station was found. It was my desire to recreate my previous experience. What a lovely evening. There is another poetry night that is closer to my home tomorrow evening. Will I attend?

The Pesky Question Mark

The lively Facebook conversation led us to meet in real life. He was eager to talk and be social. We drove around North Miami in search of nourishment. His conversations insinuated that he would be interested in being more than a friend. His accent sounded British, and he had a rather feminine quality. After being simply famished, Taco Bell looked rather appetizing. Please remember that this is being written in retrospect.
The statement of friend vs. lover arose. This left a question mark in my mind. There are certain things that a man will do if he is trying to get to know a woman. He had not made any of those strides as evident by my dinner bill. Upon the stroke of midnight, I dropped him off at a bar at his request. Yet another question mark arose in my head….a man that wants to go to a bar at midnight?
He had agreed to perform his poetry at my fundraiser for Haiti. The earthquake left me in a state of sorrow for the beautiful people and this was my way of giving back; I presented artists of all genres to the community: bellydancers, poets, piano, vocal, musical theater…it was a show of shows. I went to pick him up hours ahead of the performance time. He voiced his displeasure with this. I explained that as the producer of this show it was important for me to be on the site to make sure that everything was in order; a problem had already been relayed to me.
Upon entering his place, his face went aghast at the sight of my outfit. He changed twice and was still unsatisfied. He told me to go and that he would catch the bus. After thirty minutes of the show being in full swing, he texted me to say that he would not be able to make it with an apology. What was my problem with this? He knew that he wasn’t coming when I left his place.
That pesky question mark appeared in my head again. This is someone that has a possible romantic interest in me? This certainly was not his best foot. I saw no need to keep in contact with someone that was so unclear about himself. Shortly after that, I noticed that we were no longer Facebook friends. Alas, there wasn’t a pesky question mark over this deletion.