POEM: pulled pork

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pulled pork

we ate Elgie Stover’s unlicensed pulled pork
on the back porch of the Blue Nite Cafe

talked about the future and what we imagined
it might look like

I can’t speak for anyone else, but I never
imagined it would look like this

even though that first conversation
contained the seeds of everything that was to follow

Elgie served his pulled pork on a single piece of white bread
in a styrofoam container

we could always tell when he arrived because smoke
would drift in through the back doors of the club

from that moment on, every song
rushed toward the back porch

we played music like men whose minds
were already eating

if my parents hadn’t had friends on the island
I never would have known about the club

if I hadn’t known about the club, I never would have been
on the porch, eating pulled pork and talking with you

I think a lot of this would have happened anyway
it probably would have been easier

but I wouldn’t trade those conversations
or this pain for all the pulled pork in the world

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