The DC 8th Street Poet and SpeakeasyDC

Stories are everywhere.

When I stepped out of the car two blocks from Speakeasy DC tonight I faced this poem scrawled on the wall -
and a story.

Emphatic - Euphoric - Erotic - Go for it.
Love is Melodic - Give in and adore it.

Three hours later,
filled with Speakeasy stories
Geraldine Buckley and I walked back to her car.

While we were inside the BYPO - the 8th Street poet - despite the oppressive heat - had been at work -

Love and Rage
Guilt and shame
Make me Cry
Screaming my Name.
Curiosity Killed the Cat - stories of medling and snooping.
Playing to a full house, half the tellers were first-timers and they all pulled it off well.

You expect that some of the stories will be more well-constructed than others and leave you more satisfied - but they are all real, said to be true-life - and these days that seems to the the Good Housekeeping stamp of approval. What I remember most is that the mothers in the stories tonight were the villains - intrusive, meddling women - a bevy of mommie dearests. Ouch!

That said, I love Speakeasydc. I love to tell there and I love coming, like last night, to hear stories and enjoy the energy in a large, enthusiastic audience who groove on the stories. You feel the story-temperature rise as Dance Boutique fills with a veritable cacophony of happy voices.

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