I’m considering open mic tonight.  The poetry kind.  I scribble notes that look like poems but they don’t have life until spoken.  Words on the page are limp and cold.  Coming from my mouth they take form, develop spirit, breathe with life.  No performance is the same as my mood tints the tone and time captures the meaning in that single moment.  Other words are carved in stone and can only be repeated.

Caught alone
In a room full of people
Reasons for things
Fluttering around
In a flurry of insincerity

Silent
Watching
It’s okay
I enjoy the cadence of your voice

The press
Of peer pressure
Compacted units
Of friends slash family
A coupled community
Of denial and diet plans

Uneasy
Questioning
It’s okay
I enjoy the cadence of your voice

Drinks together
Not alone
Every day seems okay
If everyone else is
Doing it. Until
the babies come.

Doubt
Resisting
It’s okayI enjoy the cadence of your voice

We have the cars
And the house
Even our parents say
All their ducks in a row
Set for lifedespite
crippling insecurity

Awake
Screaming
It’s okay
I enjoy the cadence of your voice