The Poet (Audio Script)

Stories

I love this time of year.

You can feel that spring is close, but it’s still cold enough for a sweater and the air is heavy, a little misty.

The dogwood trees on campus start to get their early-spring blooms around now.

Every morning when I get to my office in the Lit building, the window is still covered with those tiny little purple flowers.

If it were any other day, I’d probably be walking up the hill to the library right now, maybe stop for a coffee from the cart in the quad and soak up the sun for a few minutes.

Instead, I’m babysitting an award-winning poet.

Being a glorified campus tour guide is something I would normally avoid, but you’re some big-time writer my department invited to come to speak.

My advisor thought it would be good for me to be your escort while you’re here for your reading.

She keeps saying that exposing myself to writers who I wouldn’t normally read might push me through this creative block and help me make some more progress on my already-late manuscript.

So yeah, I was basically strong-armed into dragging you around campus all day, showing you all of the very dull historical plaques and sculptural busts of deans long past.

Honestly, we’ve both been doing a pretty poor job pretending to care today.

I was hoping I might get to chat poetry with you, maybe pick your brain about some industry stuff, but… I don’t know…

You’re so… what’s the word?

Stoic?

That’s probably being too kind.

Standoffish is more like it.

I think you’ve said… maybe four? Five words to me today?

I kind of hate the stereotype that all writers and artists are just cool and aloof, but god you’re really leaning hard into that whole thing.

“Hey, so we’ve got about half an hour to kill until your reading.

Is there anything else you want to see?

University art gallery, the library…?”

“Ah, no.

No, thank you.”

Okay.

What the hell am I supposed to do with this middle-aged famous poet who refuses to take off his sunglasses? Clearly, we both can’t wait for this to be over.

“There’s a couple of other things on the itinerary for tonight,

after the reading, aren’t there?”

“Yeah.

Post-reading drinks at the Pint House.

That’s the bar on campus.”

“The day that never ends…”

“Tell me about it.”

“I… sorry.

That wasn’t very appropriate of me, being your university ambassador.”

“No, no, I appreciate the honesty.

It’s refreshing, you know.

These visiting writer gigs are hell.”

“Really?

Seems kind of kush to get flown out, put up in a hotel, read to a bunch of adoring fans.”

“That’s all an illusion.

Economy class, a motel by the airport.

You know, most of the people in the audience will have never read any of my work, they likely won’t ever.

I’m stuck out here instead of, you know, actually writing.”

“So, why’d you come then?”

“I don’t know.

For another line on my CV, I suppose. So… you’re a writer too, yes?”

“Yeah.

Short-form fiction.

Mostly.”

“Mmm.

You know, the best advice I can give you is to leave academia as soon as possible.

It suffocates creativity.”

“I don’t remember asking for your advice, but thanks.

I think.”

“Hey… is there somewhere we can go where I could have a cigarette?

I get antsy before readings.

It’s just the audience and crowd thing, you know, it’s just a whole thing for me.”

“Uh… yeah.

Yeah, I know a place.”

The outdoor balcony on the south side of the library is almost always empty.

I think probably because there are no signs or paths leading to it.

You would have to know it was there to even stumble upon it.

It overlooks the canyon that the campus was built on top of.

As much as I complain about how much time I spend here, there are definitely some good views.

“Ah, this is perfect.

A little quiet… finally.”

I watch as you lean forward against the balcony railing and peer down into the brown and green landscape below us.

You’re really not as obnoxious as I thought you were earlier.

In fact… you’re… kind of charming.

Or maybe I’m just in a better mood since we both acknowledged our mutual distaste for academia.

There’s a quiet intensity to you that I like.

Like your sunglasses are hiding a fire behind your eyes.

Or maybe you can’t keep your gaze on any one thing for too long.

I take a moment to really look at you, try to figure out what it is that makes you so intense and yet… magnetic.

Although your hair is still dark, your short beard is streaked with white.

You’re tall and lean for a man your age.

You’re handsome in a rugged intellectual kind of way.

Ahh… you definitely just caught me staring.

And judging by the way your eyes just swept up and down me, I’m guessing you don’t mind.

“You know I’m a lot older than you, right?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious.”

“Ouch.

Well, besides that… I’m kind of in a position of power here.”

“Mmm, are you, though?

Aren’t I the one that’s been dragging you around all day?

Kinda seems like I’m the one in control right now.”

“Sure, I’ll give you that.

But I do know some of your professors.”

“So what?

Are you going to tell them I wasn’t a committed tour guide for you today?”

“Maybe.”

“Gonna tell them that I’m bad or something?”

“Are you?

Bad?”

“I’ll let you decide that.”

You set your lips against mine, firmly.

I open my mouth a little wider and our tongues meet.

There’s an urgency in the way you kiss me, almost a roughness to it.

Like you might be trying to tame me.

You turn your body towards mine and I feel your hand close in around the small of my back, pulling us both closer together.

This day just suddenly got a lot more interesting.

“Take these off.”

I reach up and gently pull the sunglasses off your face.

Finally, I can see your eyes.

Brown and earthy.

“What?

What are you looking at?”

“You.

I thought your eyes would be green.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Your hand hovers at one of the buttons of my shirt.

You keep your eyes on mine as you slowly, deftly pop them open.

“You’re very beautiful.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Confidence.

Very sexy.

What else are you confident about?”

“Hmm.

My ability to write.”

“I’d say we have that in common, but… the older you get, the more you realize you don’t know anything.”