A college bar. An open mic. An invite. I agreed. To go. But not. To read. Ian. Baby face. Long hair. Scarf. Tight. Denim coat. Guitar. Easy smile. I wrote. Boxing poems. He got. Punched. Last week. By a “friend.” Ate it. Didn’t hit. Back. A pitcher. Slapped. Me. When. I was 15. Ate it. Didn’t hit. Back. Two. Pretty… Read more →