Gwen, the Cappie, invited me to a poetry night at a near-by cafe. It was open mic, and one of her friends was reading. Her friend sucked, hard. Everyone sucked, hard. I decided to take things into my own hands... I mean Christ, if you want something done right, sometimes you gotta roll up them sleeves, grab a wrench, and get in there and put Suzy's fucking tricycle together. So I put my name on the list, and waited to be called. Gwen and her friend were surprised that I would be reading, but even more surprised at my poem.
"Hello, everyone. The piece I am about to recite is going to be extemporaneous. It's all stream of consciousness. Here we go. It's entitled: Gay Rodeo in Calgary.
Chaps
No pants underneath
The breeze carresses my
Sublime buttocks
A moustache
Too much?
No, the bull whip
Is too much
Smooth leather saddle
Beginning to chafe
A rodeo clown
One single tear
Ruins his make-up
Can you last 8 seconds
At the Gay Rodeo?
Thank you very much."
I sat down, and at first people didn't know what to make of it. Gwen was kind of embarrassed. But then the clapping started. Then the cheering. I couldn't help it... I was the man, and little Suzy would have her tricycle to ride on Christmas morning.
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