U STREET NOIR
I walked into the venue solo.
My journal tucked firmly under my arm
So not to appear suspicious.
Everyone in the place looked different
dressed different
talked different
but they all had one thing in common
as they sat there
in silence
waiting
All of their names were on a list
and it was only a matter of time
Because it’s poetry night on U Street.
The hot young college student steps up to the mic.
She’s a double major in Communications and Language Arts…
Probably won her first poetry contest at age 5.
(Oh OK! She just said it was age 6.)
With more than enough confidence to go first,
she doesn’t mind
She has to leave early
because she has a secret:
Exams in the morning.
A young man stares at her
like a hungry dog
at an Alpo® factory.
His hasty scribbles
on the napkin in front of him
disguise themselves as a love poem
he’s more than eager to share
with the first girl who’ll believe him.
Under the table
the purse of the woman next to him
is a flimsy camouflauge
for her wayward hand
that moves along his thigh
like she’s got 50 cents but needs a dollar
and she’s gonna get it
from his pocket
without asking
as the next name is called.
Because it’s poetry night on U Street.
Smoke from incense curls and intertwines with
the steam from freshly poured cups of chai.
Fingers snap… light applause.
A nervous stranger shows up late
He reaches out a sweaty hand
to pull the host to one side.
“No, the list is full. Come early next time.
I’ll put you on the waiting list, but I can’t promise anything.”
The stranger takes the long way through the crowd
While dropping fliers
on each table before he leaves.
They’re for his own poetry event.
I pick up a flier
and stuff it into my pocket.
The next name is called.
The haiku poet tries to read ten poems because
“The last poet took five minutes and haiku are small.”
The host nods reluctantly;
The crowd tolerates her, watching
with eyes glazed like day-old donuts.
They don’t get haiku.
The sexy love poet’s words
make the women coo and scream.
He speaks so provocatively,
I want to offer the microphone
a cigarrette.
The feature is introduced and
the performance opens eyes,
changes lives
and brings the crowd to its feet.
The poet bows and says “thank you”
but thinks: “Show me love; buy my book or DVD”.
The host holds them up and says
“They’re only TEN DOLLARS”
The crowd responds, “ONLY TEN DOLLARS?!”
Closing time
The people spill out
onto the empty sidewalk.
Their faces bathed in the orange glow
of the city’s high-crime street lamps.
Moving quickly through the evening air,
Some walk; some duck into the subway
and others sit in their cars
all with the poems replaying
in their minds like a 1970’s sitcom;
Their spirits filled with new inspiration.
Poetry night on U Street.
by Cheryl Crockett
This is the Day 9 Challenge as it appears on napowrimo.net.
“…I’m a sucker for a good mystery novel, especially the hard-boiled noir novels of the thirties and forties. There’s always a two-timing blonde, a city that keeps its secrets, and stuck in the middle, a man who just can’t help but rabbit after truth. Today I challenge you write a poem inspired by noir — it could be in the voice of a detective, or unravel a mystery, or just describe the long shadows of the skyscrapers in the ever-swirling smog. After all, “you know how to write a poem, don’t you, Steve? You just pick up a pen and you write.”
Back to Cheryl’s NaPoWriMo 2013 Main Post
My daily haiku is below. I am writing one haiku per day for all of 2013.
Haiku #97
Watch dandelions
They change from yellow to white
When does that happen?
by Cheryl Crockett
poetatete 