I had a gig last night,
reading poetry between music sets
of a Bob Dylan tribute night
in West Palm Beach.
It was cush,
but I bombed hard,
not entirely my fault,
just a thing that happens.
I had a whiskey,
just one,
because I had to drive,
and I hung out in the shadows.
When I was about to escape,
a beautiful gal
stopped me at the door
and said she loved my poetry.
I didn't believe her,
but I hugged her, thanked her,
sang the night over and over in my head,
and drunk instgramed her later.