The next reading at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, will be Monday, March 14. Featured readers will be Kristina Marie Darling, •chance operations• co-founder Chris Parr, and Buzz Spector. Musical guest will be Learn, Artist!; doors open at 7:30 p.m. Advance sign-up for the open-mic following the featured readers is encouraged. Cover charge is $3.00.
In St. Louis Before A Concert
I walk down
Delmar past
Vintage Vinyl.
A man standing
on a wooden box
is a statue. I toss
him a quarter.
For early
March the day
is warm
and orange.
Students laugh
and smoke
perched on
planters outside
Blueberry Hill.
Near the Market
Pub, a drum
circle pounds
entranced by rhythm.
Two women
in flowing floral
skirts sit outside
Brandt’s and barter
the romantic
business of life
over matching
Mojitos.
They ignore
the waiter as he
serves a bowl
of penne
in white
wine sauce.
Further down
the street,
teens crowd
Iron Age. They
crave same day
tattoos. For
expedience,
the artists
crave an
on-sight notary,
their lips
snap off
beartrap fucks
debating the pros
and cons
of such a thing,
their guns
buzz over
flesh, a funky
sewer smell,
a browned
apple core
and a kissing
couple
on a scrap
of burlap
as I pass
Meshuggah.
Skinker is always
shit to cross.
I jump out before
the light
and almost
get popped
by the extended
mirror of a baby
blue, fifty-seven
Chevy with
a beige bed cap
and Yosemite
Sam mud flaps.
At six PM,
The Pin Up
Bowl seats
exactly six
douche bags.
When I arrive
at The Halo
Bar, I receive
the inevitable
pat down. No,
my Moleskine
notebook is
not a camera,
my ballpoint
not a Sharpie,
yes, that is my
prick. They
return my ID
and stamp
a black five
with a braided
circle around it
on the top
of my hand.
I grab a seven
dollar Bloody
Mary and wait
in the queue for
early entry
to secure
the best spot
to witness
rock music
slide through
St. Louis
like a serpent,
or a maybe a never
ending parade
of black
and white
tour buses.
-- Will Kyle
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