The two poets in the bar


I recognized them from the poetry jam. He didn't look so crazy now; he was dressed up normal now, still talking strange. She was still as melancholic in her being as before. I put a stupid friendly fan face and approached them, I was alone and bored; been playing a couple of tunes and no one clapped or seemed to care much.

"Oh, yes, you o'ai mate? Aai, from here, aai. yo'self?", said he in auto-pilot motion(less).

"So do you want to buy any of our books?" She asked with a half smile.

"I'm broke".

"Here, I'll give you this one, but you'll have to promise me you'll buy my second book that's coming up soon."


"They give you a free beer for playing".

"Yes, I know", and pointed at my empty can.

No drinks over night. No late night philosophical conversations. No fraternal poetic community. Just silence and awkwardness, like shallow normal people. We stood there silent, looking around, me standing in between holding a book and a guitar, chewing gum.

Actors, yes, some of the good ones.


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