Cheese and Crackers
06/09/2003 05:19 a.m.
My friend, Dave, today asked me to go up to Bloomington with him for a poetry reading. My reply was that he could go to a reading anywhere and get about the same vibe out of it, so why waste the gas to drive to Bloomington? Well, he likes Bloomington, he says...and there's this one poet that he has heard of that he wants to see. Oh, really, you actually keep up with the local poetry scene (which is more than I can say for myself)? Well, no, he doesn't, but his Creative Writting teacher has recommended this guy and had him in to class to read some of his own work. {Oh, and I
need to explain that Dave is totally in love with his creative Writting teacher, "Cracker Boy" I call him because he has this book coming out of short stories that only middle-aged white suburban guys will fully appreciate "Big Wheel in the Cracker Factory" it's called. } Anyways, Dave is all in love with Cracker Boy, because he's one of those cool teachers that you only have once in a lifetime. {And in love with him in a kind of Cheese Monkeys way, too, I think, though Dave is far too Catholic to ever come out of denial about it.} So he's all about going up to Bloomington to hear this guy read again. And so I says, well, let me see this guy's stuff that you guys had to read and then I'll let you know. Well, Justin's there too I forgot to mention, and of course he wants to read this stuff, but he's got his nose stuck in the Japanese dictionary that I threw at him for cracking on my sense of humor. So I just start reading out loud this guy's poem. Some attrociously long title about not blinking on I-69 blah blah blah. And it's not half bad, but I'm on a cold read, so I would be flying by the seat of my pants except that I have a skirt on. Anyways, halfway through the thing Dave has to stop me and say something along the lines of wow, you read it just like the guy who wrote it did. And I stop, leaving off at just the point where the guys see head lights up ahead, and stare Dave down. And I'm all like, Dave, dude I'm a poet. This guy is a poet. As long as we have at least that in common, then how the hell could I mess up a read? I mean, if you're a poet, then you get it, and you can't not do the thing justice, right? Well, Dave doesn't get it. He just thinks I'm a really good reader. I'm not. I don't even like reading my own stuff out loud. I'm just a poet and I get it, is all. Get it?

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