The poet steps up to the mic
The poet waits for silence
The poet clears his throat to attact a little attention
The poet notices the audience
The poet says ‘ladies and gentlemen’
The audience notices the poet
The poet begins to read a poem
The first three rows of people are beginning to pay attention
The poet is trying desperately not to bore the audience but he is trying to do something a little different here

The poet wishes he could sound like this drum solo

The poet wishes this could be a conversation
He wishes there was room for what you thought
The poet is only a poet because he’s convinced other people that he can crowd out their thoughts, and colonize their minds with illusions
The poet is sick of doing that
The poet is trying to make art active
The poet is trying to shake Britney Spears out of her tight pants
The poet is beyonceing all over the stage
The poet hasn’t got a boob job or a six pack but has a poem in his pants
The poet means to bring to light the truth of things
He is trying to tell you that you are here
He is making a memory from nothing
He is saying that he sees you improvise an interpolation

and you are cool
He is putting you in your chair
He is telling you that even though your job is soulless, you have a great fashion sense
He is telling you that your choice of entertainment is political
The poet sees no difference between big macs and top of the pop
The poets respects you and satirizes you
The poet is a little crazy
The poet likes language that moves like jazz
The poet doesn’t mind this
The poet is here and now, and sees what you see improvise from the audience perspective (the clink of glasses, the sound of the bar downstairs, the cash register, the dull thump of a far away car stereo, the pure miracle of hearing, your shoes…)

The poet has eyes in the back of his head
He is boiling over with sense
He crouches, he straightens, he uses his body jump, do the robot, breakdance arms

He is dreaming as he is reading
He knows you are too
All of this intentional, and to be savoured
The poet knows that no poem is authentic,
Except for this one.
The poet slows down, takes a step back from the mic
The audience applauds
The next thing begins