Out break

 Although you could say that I asked for this

The advance warning of your kiss

The night was young

I didn't know who is

Friend or enemy

Jerrymander or carpet bagger

Of the socio-political scene

Who am I kidding there was no Queen

The scene was a bar just after dark

The comedians on stage giving it their all

Being brave the crowd enthralled

Or not so be the case

It was a usual night of comedy

And the old hats brought out their new acts

And the fact checkers were counting their money

The fried dinners kept running in

Delivered by skinny bunnies

In Alcapone costumes

And I knew that something was up but I couldn't

Quite sniff it

So I kept my nose clean and my eyes down listening

Like in a Bingo ring

And yet again I listened

Envious of the cheers

The actors on stage were receiving,

Sneers or sniffles at first

kuffufles inwhich coughs fought with emergent laughs

In the throats of the nervous crowd

Who hadn't yet drowned out their

Nerves in beer or other beverage

Like myself

Though slowly the beer I had ordered and begun to drink

Started to take effect

And I took off my scarf

I relaxed from the cold

And began to chat to the woman with the dog

My companion for the evening

As if by magic,

By chance

She knew Dave the host

And my landlord

And I who had previously been half willing to accept his invitation of a spot

Was now getting cold feet

In fact the whole night hadn't given rise to anymore willingness on my part to perform

The larger numbers in the crowd than usual, their young age, all of this put me off

I wondered what true confidence was

To just get up on stage and act regardless

Perhaps my second beer had killed any false bravery or suicidal instinct I had to go up on stage

But the result was the same, since

When Dave came around and asked if I was going to perform

I declined.

My beer rested on the plastic wallet that contain my printed off poem

Printed from the afternoon,

That I had neglected and even the very sight of,

The very process of sorting or choosing a reading had

filled

my gut with nerves

I wondered what mental resources was needed for this kind of work.

I used to be a good little performer in school

But I do not think I ever really wanted to be

It was always what my dad wanted of me, for some reason

I suppose to break out of my shyness

It was a good idea,

Make friends

Make a statement

But it wasn't me

Perhaps this nerotic fool is what I am

destined to be forever

Without any recognition formally of the fact

Who cares

What does it matter?