The Midnight Special bookstore
Shined its light on me
By way of a calendar listing
In the back pages
Of a free poetry magazine
So I drove through Friday night El Niño rain
Walked into the back room
And stood because all folding chairs were filled
Everyone actually listened to everyone else
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It was the best possible first time
And I kept returning for two years:
Watching, learning, workshopping
Glad to find somewhere welcoming
Until changes were made,
Hosts were fired from volunteer positions,
Store owners wanted to be right all the time
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The Midnight Special wasn’t immune
From hubris and personal/poetic politics
And I confronted that truth several times
At different venues as years and decades disappeared
And good memories turned sentimental ,
Painful ones eroding into resignation and acceptance
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