“Open Mic 🎤“
There’s a crowd inside.
The tech guy is taping the line down with stage tape.
A spiral notebook indicates ten spots open.
I scratched my name beside the number five.
Peristaltic butterflies emerge from faux cocoons of confidence
Palms emit sweat.
Handshaking the handshakes.
One sets the tone,
Two drives it home.
Three stretches on.
Four, and now I’m on.
Minutes warp fast and slow,
I caught my flow.
Just as fast,
the show goes on.
Mental Health Matters
Poetry, Short Stories and Violent Ideas
Transformed By Meeting That Which I'm Not
Unique Answers To All Kinds of Questions