THE READING

it was the boston university barnes and nobles
as I recall
upstairs on the fourth floor
a room I had never been
opened up with a podium
somebody with a nametag stood in the front
scanning for faces he recognized

I was early so pretended to be interested by
the calendars in the next room over

I waited a few minutes
people milled in

Doug Holder was supposed to be there
a friend and coworker of mines' friend.
Holder was a little bigshot in the boston
literary scene and had his own
publishing press

he was about 40 and bald with a white
beard
he sort of looked like a poet

others wandered in
a couple college kids
a couple old folks
a couple bum looking dudes with wild hair (the poets)
a young 30 something with a wedding
ring and a smile like a high school history teacher

probably about 20 in all
one girl read
she was nervous
she was pretty good
she had friends there for moral support
I think Holder had published a chapbook of hers
or she was in some compilation

this other annoying woman read who had an art gallery
and was Holders bestselling poet

her stuff sucked something awful
there was nothing in it
just the way some chick smelt
who she fucked ten years ago

one bum poet read pieces by a dead friend of his

he pretended to haul a giant bag behind him when
he walked up and when he sat

why I have no idea

towards the end, holder introduced the guy I wanted to see:
jack powers

powers had rolled with the beats in the 60's
north beach, yada yada
he has some pretty serious mental issues
apparently
break downs
institutionalized
all that
I'd heard he'd just been released
he snuck in late
sat in the back
he had black and gray crazy hair
was rail thin
tall
took no paper with him when he read
muttered nearly incoherent
half making up the poems as he went
they were kinda cool
only cuz he was cool
only cuz ferlinghetti still kicks it with him when he passes through
town

then the featured reader read from his new book of short stories
it was something about a room, a kitchen
this room was special for some reason I couldn't figure out why.
he was fine. could probably do some writing for the globe
I had no fucking clue what he was talking about with his
special room though

apparently I shared a minority opinion; when he was done
everyone roared

afterwards, I walked over to holder
reintroduced myself
(we'd met before)
he said I looked different then when we first met
he asked about our mutual friend

as I was wandering off, powers caught me with a pastoral look.
the kind I used to have when i was a leader in youth group and I recognized
a kid who didn't know anybody.
he came over to me, shook my hand with calloused ones
thanked me for coming
and started reciting a poem
some weird thing about god and death

the kinds of things I think about

it was shitty and he knew it
and threw his hands in the air.
a girl next to him stood smiling
beaming at him as if he'd just
uttered a Pauline benediction

she looked at me and said
"we all have those special places, don't we?"
I nodded still having no clue what the fuck
the dude was talking about

but I had to say
I kinda liked that powers guy