...short poets are epically sad and if not careful, lose their game...

peculiar reading:

lost in the space:

of my head:

(Where are you?

I have no one to talk to

and feel wanted in front of)

peculiar social maladjustments:

the guy standing in the bar:

alone: unsure of what to do

with his hands, his eyes:

I didn't even get to see:

Anne read: Only heard:

Through the poor PA:

At the back of the bar:

I sat in a chair faced:

the wrong way:

looked at this girl:

then at this other:

and didn't know:

what to do:

Do I keep looking?

She's looking back.

Do I keep looking?

What the fuck:

has become of this:

petty petty poet:

in this bar:

full of poets?