Back in the early days, when DP and I were newly in love, he did a reading at his university. After the reading, I got into a conversation with one of his colleagues, and confessed that I was a poet. This woman was a poet. And all of a sudden we were talking intensely about the fact that I was writing poems about rocks when I knew nothing about geology. She was writing poems about rocks although she knew nothing about geology. I left the conversation just about humming. I had found a poetic soulmate. It was only later that DP congratulated me for chatting up his boss.
Well, fast forward a number of years, DP and I bicker like an old married couple because we are an old married couple. My soulmate poet published a book. We went to hear her read last night, and she was so good. She reminded me how it was done. She noticed the things I only wished I noticed. She wrote a sonnet about algae. I gave Soulmate Poet a hug; she deserves a book above all others.
And then I was introduced to a woman, but didn’t hear her name, and gave her a total blank stare, escaping the conversation as soon as I could. Of course she turned out to be someone I edited an article for once. Great.
On a scale from zero to a gazillion how fucking awkward are you?