Stone Soup Servings is a regular series for Oddball Magazine that features upcoming performers at Stone Soup Poetry, the long-running spoken word venue in the Boston area that has partnered with Oddball Magazine. Stone Soup Poetry now meets from 8-10 p.m. every Monday at the Out of The Blue Art Gallery’s new location at 541 Massachusetts Avenue in Central Square Cambridge, Massachusetts. The open mike sign-up at 7:30 p.m.
On November 17, we welcome back Karen Locascio, who recently was co-winner of the 2014 Academy of American Poets Prize. The winning poem is included below in the hopes that it will help persuade you to come hear more from Karen this Monday.
You come with beer and I already have the same 22 oz. seasonal in my
fridge and I want to tell you that “that’s” kismet, not what you think you
have with her. I dream I’m riding shotgun in a boxy fuck-me red Corolla
driving west through Washington. You’re driving. Ok, you aren’t the driver.
But you could be because people don’t always look like themselves in
dreams. I know why you need her. I know good beer never comes in clear
bottles and you’re sure it never comes in twist-offs and I lied: I don’t know
why you need her. I can make the guy driving you. I can make him anyone
I want him to be. I can drink every beer I have and every beer you bring.
It’s my apartment. Everything here is mine except you. I know you need her
like a cold can needs a koozie. I need to make him you so I make him you
because like you he can’t decide where to go or where to stop. I need a
drink after you tell me you’re living with her. You call it a “sabbatical”; I
correct you–a “trial run.” I need this right now like I need a drink, all the
beer you can carry or buy. I need you to leave, get more, so you do. You
have a VW hatchback, silver. The phone tries to correct my misspelled
“need” into “beer.” You need her like a can needs a tab. Like a good beer
needs a bottle opener. As if I don’t have teeth.