BONUS POST: Are we doing this?
I don't really want to know
This is a bonus post for paid subscribers, which I am going to start doing occasionally! It will not take away from the times I write to everyone. This is a bonus thank-you gift, and (hopefully) an enticement to some of you. I appreciate your support!
On Friday I went to a poetry reading with my friend Jennifer. My other friend Krista was reading, which Jennifer used as a ploy to get me to go: Jennifer knows I dislike effort, and “the outside,” but I like Krista even more than I dislike these things. So off I went.
The poetry reading was a two-parter: the first part was Krista and her writing partner, who collaborated on a book of poems, and the second was the main event, a poet named Rozanne. I could go on and on about my friend’s poetry, which was tremendous, but what I really want to talk about is a line of Rozanne’s poetry. One single line. This line will puzzle and haunt me for the rest of my days. I debated whether or not to write about it here, because it is decidedly not safe for work, but we’re all grown-ups here, right? No children reading? Excellent.