That's what I am. If you only knew what this week is shaping up to over here you'd be sending me a pound of dark chocolate, a couple bottles of red, and a personal masseuse whose name is probably Davi or Vicente.
Tonight I had to go to a training event and listen to someone speak on an intolerably boring topic. I was prepared for two hours of fidgeting in my seat and doodling in my moleskin notebook, being washed over by the drone of some self-important expert in technical matters I'd prefer it was someone else's job to learn. Instead, the speaker was a compact, droll little man who had me in stitches the entire time. I and my companion were somehow the only ones laughing, but I suppose one had to be actually paying attention to catch his subtle humor, even if the delivery was nearly constant.
Life is mischievous like that, always whipping out the curveballs.
Have you noticed the growing number of fresh voices around here? Like Clew's Blues:
He earned his living with that voice, hosting radio shows featuring oldies or lonely heart dedications. Deep and enveloping, immediately familiar. Equal parts thunder and romance. And always strong.
He paid our bills with it. Put food in our bellies, put our green asses through college. Put the fear of God in us.
I never knew it to show weakness, even when Grandma died.
Until we spoke today. Over the hollow line, it was time his only daughter knew the severity. I could hear the cracks, like sugar glass. Unsure if it was in his voice, or from within me.
Don't forget, April is National Poetry Month. To celebrate and support poetry, all prompts this month come from a poem. This week's prompt is from Amir Sulaiman. And if you haven't yet been introduced to slam poetry...enjoy.