failed girls

Two months ago, it was me and my humble poems, singing into the Rogue Buddha Gallery air.  The Pocket Lab Reading Series is charming and I'm so grateful to MC for these two years, and look forward to many more.

And tonight, Maya and I made a reprise visit (and will again in two months, when Becky Lehmann reads, a high school classmate of my husband's and friend of ours--though when did we see her last? Some New Year's Eve at Palm Gardens, certainly, years and years ago), especially for a certain someone we both hold very dear.

And as I stood in the back of the room, swaying with my bear, closing my eyes and thinking of someone I miss and wishing it upon the flower petal I left in the front of the room, obediently chanting return as the mother-and-daughter moved about the room, I realized:  Wow.  Because that's what you think when a woman you deeply admire, whose project with failed girls is brilliant, just so happens to also be one of your good friends.

It's a little startling.

I would feel blessed with or without the poetry.  Colleen's just that kind of girl, with a big heart that could sink a ship.  The poetry, the words, the performance, the vision--all of that is such a precious extension