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Tipplers, beware! Drunk Poets’ Society is when Lauren Paredes goes to bars, magnetic poetry in hand, looking for poets who don’t know it … yet.
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I have not had the pleasure of drinking (or billiarding) at Flat Top Johnny’s in Kendall in the two years that I’ve lived here. If I’m in the area at all, it’s usually because I’m juiced up and craving late night breakfast from The Friendly Toast. And that was the initial plan for this week. But alas, there was the matter of the sign on the Toast’s door that spoke of an early last-call that changed things. So I did what I thought was best and went next door to momentarily lick my wounds.
What Flat Top Johnny’s might lack in quirky décor and home fries, they make up for other in ways. Like the free cupcakes the bartender offers D.P.S.’s eighth poet, Patrick, and me when we order our drinks. It seems, for a moment, that nothing can top their generous offering,
and then we notice the sexy, Mad Men-esque lounge table and chairs off to one side.
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With his Old Fashioned and my inevitable hard cider in tow, Patrick and I venture over to, what is now, my favorite magnetic poem birthplace. He takes to the words quietly while my photographer friend and I gush about how perfect the mood lighting is in our nook.
Just when I think I am more into the moment than the poet, Patrick says
“I don’t like the frantic-type words because usually my poems are about a person, or a feeling, and I wouldn’t want to rush those things.”
It occurs to me that he has that “man of few words” thing going on, and when he does eventually say something, it is emotionally astute.
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The banter drifts to lighter topics like why humans have the imminent urge to form magnetic phrases with obvious sexual undertones. I consider removing the “sausage” tile from my kit once and for all. I decide against it. After all, each word here has the potential to aid someone in saying something they may not be able to say without this medium.
Patrick looks up from a long bout of silent concentration and says, “I don’t really know what makes a poem feel done.” He finds the word “worship” and deftly places it at the top of his piece.
An afterthought title that works.
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