One Night at Sawmill and Leadmine Road

Folder: 
2024

 

I kicked my sandal across the patio.

 

I was tap, tapping my leg

To rid it of the cramp obtained from sitting,

My toe hooked the unfooted shoe

And sailed it to the sky.

No one noticed, I convinced myself, at the bottle shop’s

Picnic tabled front, not-really-a-front-porch, porch,

But that concrete area poured to the doors of a store entrance

In a suburban strip mall

Made cool by the vibrant Mexican restaurant

With Mariachi music and Day of the Dead string lights

And the Community Theater spilling out

Its ethnically diverse cast and cast of audience,

Black clad stage managers and production assistants

Mixed with The Art supporters and between-show actors,

Reviewers and podcast producers,

Friends and family at a preview showing

Of a local writer's work, thought provoking and timely.

My leg had cramped among all this talent

And I walked out into the warm September air

To stamp it out so I could return to offer

My accolades without a grimace.

 

Instead, I kicked my sandal to the sky. 

 

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