I went to see guitarist Gilad Hekselman at Jazz Standard tonight and wrote this poem before he started playing. I feel like many of my poems are as much diary entries or small pieces of reportage as they are poems. Or maybe they are those things and also poems.
/ / /
a man without a bank card will do almost anything
when I went to pay the cafe bill
I realized I’d lost my bank card
now I’m at the Standard with 13 dollars
enough for an iced tea and a bucket of fries
it’s what I would’ve ordered anyway
but now I’ll be broke at the end
in that I’ve-got-plenty-of-nuthin way
meanwhile I’m mired in a conversation
I’d give anything to not be having
but my mom raised me to stick with it
so I’m stickin’
everyone around me is speaking Japanese
I eavesdrop when my tablemate takes a break
one table over is a sax player with a US Census bag
sitting by accident next to a fellow Census worker
they’re telling Census jokes, which are the best
I’m holding a seat for my English friend
a surprise gift from the rain god
to whom I did not even think to pray
there’s a Swiss philosopher eating steak tartare
I say I think I know him, he says he thinks he knows me
we’re both wrong
the seat across from me remains empty
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