It seems as if we start
milling around at 9:58,
waiting for the doors to open
and welcome us with a hug.
And Peter asks, "Who'll read first?"

One by one the poets read
in silence. Poets listen to
metaphors and imagery that
fill volumes of college texts.
And Peter asks, "Who wants to read?"

Four or five hours, time
well spent in beauty, tears,
laughter and memories,
all for the sake of art.
And Peter asks, "Does anyone have a poem?"

Chatter, encouragement and
critique fuse into a night
not like a live open mike, but
like friends in town for tonight.
And Peter asks, "Judy, how about you?"

As long as I live, I doubt
that I will ever find a place
that matches Poetry Thursday
at Callahan's Saloon, until
Peter says, "I must go to bed. Good night."

Joseph McCauley (GRYPHONPOET)
September 1999