The Poetry Reading

Imagine if you will an empty room,

a bunch of chairs, a podium, and me,

an audience of one. The poet reads.

I listen but I do not understand

a single word. I wish there was a crowd

so I could close my eyes. I cannot sleep

when there is only me. I cannot leave

or watch the other people in the room.

There are no other people in the room.

He’s reading in a monotone. He drones.

White noise is all I hear. Another one

or a continuation of the last?

I really try to listen but the words

the words, the words, the words, the words, the words

are all the same. I nod and smile. At last

the reading’s over. Do I clap or thank

the poet or just leave the way I would

if I was not an audience of one?

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