I'm going to read a couple of poems from my first book.
This one is called "The Chess Player."
And we were out to dinner earlier
and I was asked at dinner, do I get nervous before readings.
And I was recounting when this book came out
and the very first reading-- this
was the very first poem I read.
I was so nervous.
My leg was shaking so much, I honestly
felt I might fall to the ground.
You know, when your legs just-- you think you're going to fall,
which is how I feel right now.
[LAUGHTER]
Same thing.
[LAUGHTER]
"The Chess Player."
They've left.
They've all left.
The pigeon feeders have left.
The old men on the benches have left.
The white gloved ladies with the Great Danes have left.
The lovers who thought about coming have left.
The man in the three piece suit has left.
The man who was a three piece band has left.
The man and the milk crate with the bible has left.
Even the birds have left.
Now, the trees are thinking about leaving too.
And the grass is trying to turn itself in.
Of course, the buses no longer pass
and the children no longer ask.
The air wants to go and is in discussions.
The clouds are trying to steer clear.
The sky is reaching for its hands.
Even the moon sees what's going on but the stars remain
in the dark as does the chess player who sits with all
his pieces in position.