Wednesday, January 26th, 2011...1:29 am

scott moore | wayward in cambridge

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Wayward in Cambridge

Comfortably seated
Between Harvard and MIT
The lizard lounge
Just a month earlier
I turned some heads when
I got drunk with a couple slammers (slam poets)
And fell down a flight of steps
This time around
I changed up my look
With remorse I eased in gently
It didn’t help much
Anyway all that aside
First read on the night… an old poet
Pretty skinny and frail
He looked half dead
Pale skin and age spots
His face was sucked in
Till the bones showed
He was all hunched over and
His hair was pretty thin
Like his glasses
He even dressed old
Kakis pulled way too high
His belt had a stranglehold
The white shirt with a camel hair jacket
Reminded me of my grandfather in the 60’s
Maybe he was a poet scientist?
It’s Cambridge it’s an expanded universe
Under the lights
He held his words close to the mike
The 1st line delivered… hooked me
Court ordered vasectomies and
1st amendment rights
The 2nd snapped my neck
He groaned about pussy
Gyrating and pulsing
Like a pissed off cobra
Slinging his words
In a river of spit
I didn’t think old people
Did that shit
Thanks Viagra
Everyone’s a star now
I mean he was plugged in
Serious voltage***
Ripping through his veins
He held his audience
Erasing all my preconceived thoughts
Probably a freak in the sack too
I brought him over a beer
Told him how much
I enjoyed the performance
Then I shook him down
Would he read a poem of mine
Give some feedback
I know there were other things
He’d rather be doing
But he agreed
I watched his face grin
His eyes shifting back and forth
He looked a little confused
Then he said
Were you going for random chaos
Mixed with a little insanity
I asked which line
He said all of them
We laughed
Unpretentiously he said
It’s definitely not for everyone
But I’m sure there’s a party
You can crash somewhere
Do you mean the morgue
No…. the internet
Then he expounded
On the theory of
Ducks and cradles

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