Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions picked up from poems overheard from Stone Soup's open
mic readers and features. I figure out a title (and sometimes the rest of the poem) later. To paraphrase Lorne Michaels, the poem doesn't go up because it's good; it goes up because it's Tuesday morning. I've done fifty of them now, and you can access them all
here.
Joyce Angela Jellison featured last night. I had a weird night. Already running late, my bus held me up because there was a passenger we almost called an ambulance for. He claimed he was low on blood sugar before conking out. The driver and I checked his breathing and his pulse before he let out a huge snoring/belching sound. Nope. Just drunk. Probably a waste of the cranberry juice I got for him.
All of this is to say that between this and the small open mic, coupled with the fact that I arrived just after Mignon Ariel King finished her open mic spot with her musician friend. I was in a weird place. I just picked up the pieces and did the best I could (trying to begin with a reference to music) and stopped at the end of the night. I had some kind of character. I might return to it. Typed it while listening to "B-Boy Bouillabaisse"from Beastie Boys'
Paul's Boutique for no discernible reason. Here's what I got.
The Final Testimony of Mr. Lucky
Everything I know I either learned
from strumming catgut wire
or stringing the guts of a bad crooner
until he yelled like a past-prime cat in heat.
