WHAT YOU SAW
(after Lach)

To the girl who left right after her set
and right before mine:
You missed it, baby.
You missed the real deal.
The kind of talent that was to go on was phenomenal,
fantasmagorical,
first-rate.

There were artists
the likes of which you might have imagined
but never seen
or might even have seen
but based on your speed of exit,
certainly never HEARD.

There’s the fantastic Mr. Fix,
who makes about as much sense
as the Mad Hatter
in a town called Alice.
You enter a new reality in his presence,
one you’d never willingly visit on your own.

Or the Divine Ms. N.
Ever experienced her?
I’m not surprised.
She comes around like Haley’s;
blue moons fly more frequently.
Her sound is the prize bird watchers seek
a song so rare
as to be priceless.

You missed Lady Kay.
You missed Dardenelle Jones.
You missed Ricardo Snee
and Gina Gee.
All have something to recommend them
if only the rhyming names.

And, of course, you miszed Caine Wok,
an artist so huge,
he needs three personalities to rein him in
of which I am one.
He closed it all out
– or I did,
it’s hard to say
– not that you can weigh in:
You were long gone.

I hope your bed is cozy
and your dinner was hot
– but I really don’t.
I can’t care that much
because I’m still out,
enjoying the evening,
rocking the night
and you could be, too,
but I don’t know
since you’re gone
and you missed it.
You missed it all.