Sacramento is a sweet little town, the walnut-sized capitol controlling the Californian Brontosaurus All the roads meet at right angles. If you’re at the corner of N and 2nd, you know exactly how far you have to walk to get to Q and 10th. Before the show, I updated facespace at Naked Lounge, a hip cafe staffed by cockatoo-haired baristas.
The Sacramento Poetry Center kindly agreed to host a reading for Casey and me on very short notice. Before I arrived, I was a bit intimidated. I imagined the center as an arts mansion with floor to ceiling windows overlooking a grand estate filled. I planned more form poems for my set than usual, because I thought it would be closer to an academic poetry crowd.
In actuality, the center was nestled in an arts strip mall, a down to earth space about the size of a master bedroom. The audience was small but attentive. Local poet David Iribarne agreed on the spot to open the show with two deeply personal poems. Contrary to my fears, funny pieces and pop culture critiques went over well. I will definitely book the center the next time I tour the West Coast.