-
i can just imagine how things would
end up, me being a little more than
hesitant to even consider vocalizing
myself "Live" to dozens of listeners
—me—
starting out on a platform in some school
gymnasium just a short million miles away
from the safety of my writing cubical deep
inside a worm hole underneath my domicile
im sure that a few in the crowd will wonder
what this thing is doing there, my thin, shaky
form walking erratically to center stage with a
tablet in one hand and a cup of water in the other—
well, it could be *****..
the microphone will be way too big for
what little i have to say, commencing
with an unsteady vocal that many will find
indistinguishable from man or woman,
the rhythm should get better after the first
of several stanzas, but i will have already
spotted the ombudsman standing near the
emergency exit listening in—
just as i feared,
and as our eyes meet, his expectation
of structure and rigidity will boil me
down to the hardwood floor, reducing
me to the basic size of a Cornish hen,
spun lengthwise upon his rotisserie,
roasting away as a smoldering torso
from his slow hand-cranked rotations
over the campfire which he will light his
cigarettes from, leaving me choking
from the smoke of his evaluations
as i drip into the cinders and
evaporate along with most
of my self ~esteem..
i realize that he'll just be some ghost
that has haunted my every attempt
at simple boldness,
but i know he is gonna be right there
if i ever climb up to laser like stares
and the wide-open ~hears~ of
kindred poets and curious ears,
an easy fellow to pick out—
he will be the one
holding my neck
in his hands...
s jones
2008-2020
.
