So I was interviewed by Artscope about my writing process, my performance of poetry and I was asked to read a few pieces.
I pulled out my phone while the man beside me was breathing down my neck. I started to dial and sidestepped away from him. He took a step closer.
“Mind backing up a little” I asked. “Thanks”. I called my brother. “Tyler, I just had a thought”.
“Dude, I’m suited up for an interview so this better be important” said Tyler. I imagined the sight, his short stature and his formal attire. It looked like a child holding a clipboard.
“It is” I replied. “So what if an acapella group-”?
Tyler stopped me. “If this is one of your puns, I swear, I’m changing the Netflix password”.
“It’s not, it’s not” I assured. “So if an acapella group got into gardening…”?
“This is a pun Bruce, admit it” replied Tyler.
“I’m telling you, it’s not” I defended. “So if an acapella group got into gardening, would they call their band Pitches and Hoes”?
Tyler groaned on the phone “I’m going to give that a negative four out of ten”.
I got a dissatisfied look from the man beside me. “No but seriously, I called to tell you about my emergency cigarettes”.
Tyler expected another pun saying “Ok…”.
“There’s a box under my bed and it has about three in there. If you’re going for an interview, take them. Just buy a packet of mints as well. Pop a mint after your cigarette”.
Tyler was shook by the lack of a punchline. “Ok, thanks”.
“And Tyler, you’ll be fine. No matter what happens, you’ll be fine. I love you”.
“Ok man, I got to go, but thanks for the cigarettes, and the advice”.
“Anytime Tyler” and I hung up. I turned to the man behind me. “Thanks for bending the rules. I’m ready to go now”.
Technically, the glass from the windscreen broke my heart. But Tyler looking at the car crash, that is what broke my heart. He roared like a missile, aware of its purpose as it fell through the sky. Being ok was an impossible thing. And he would go on believing this for the rest of his life. But when he checked the time of our last call, he understood impossible things can happen.
This story has a happy middle
And I need to tell it to you because if I don’t
Then I doesn’t have a happy middle
Gosh you’re even prettier up close
So pretty you make the tongue lose memory
And legs feel like they had a lobotomy
Me talking to you now is just an exception to your rule
A reign I could only admire from afar
But I knelt with the rest of them in your church
You’re so pretty that…
A man would sell his soul just to talk to you
That wasn’t a metaphor
I bought a story to say to you
The irony is that this is the story
And the silly thing is
It should have costed more
I would buy ten or twelve stories if I had more souls
This is the happy middle I was talking about
Yes I would love to have coffee with you
Just you and me
But I can’t
There is somewhere I need to be