WEBVTT

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And this poem is called
"Sit and Listen."

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You belong in this room full
of scruffy recovering drunks.

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Adobe shack with crack
stained glass around its door.

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Perch like a sinking
ship on the edge of town.

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Smoke rises from cigarettes
lodged like talking

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sticks in each person's fingers.

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Blue floats just below
the ceiling as if

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disembodied ghosts.

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Disembodied spirits
long for escape

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through the old fashioned
wood framed windows.

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Everyone has a voice here.

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Once the leader
reads the preamble

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and says the word topic even
the deranged, the myopic,

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that old man sucking oxygen
from a metal tank at his feet.

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Even the sleepy guy who just
today had his last drink.

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Let go and let go that man
says, pouring his troubles out

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like cheap wine
trying not to gripe

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about his aggravated DUIs.

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Two in one weekend he says.

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He thrives on crisis he says.

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How can he find God.

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He finally pleads
to the group eyes

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lowered like bleeding asphalt
shining on black asphalt dune.

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Bleeding headlights shining
on black asphalt dune.

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He needs to give up he says.

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His fingers drum the table.

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Two young punks in muscle
shirts and baggy pants

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glance around the room
and share their horror

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with clear eyes
and oozing wounds.

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Where you start is not
knowing, the shaved head boy

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says, an open sketchbook
on the bench beside him.

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Praying no matter what says
the red haired boy an open--

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I'm sorry.

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Pray no matter what
says the red haired one.

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Don't give up he says.

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Surrender.

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The guy against the back wall
cackles each time a new person

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talks.

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You want to yell at him,
tell him to shut the hell up.

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Listen you want to say.

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We're trying to save lives here.

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But the next voice
whispers miracles.

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His little kid finger
shaped into crucifixes.

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Pit bulls that didn't attack
failed catechism classes.

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How when he walked in
the door the first day

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we were all full of shit
and there was no way

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he could sit and listen.

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Sit and listen.

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The room shakes.

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The nervous light
their tiny flames.

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Eyes dart like snakes, tongues
caught in their own lies.

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The next speaker smiles, lights
a smoke and offers her name.

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