The Perverted Poet Society

There was no reason to be there. It was just handy and I really needed a drink. The place was small and I noticed the fire rating: 120 people. I hoped the guy wasn't trying to make a living.

I was in a suit, something I wore maybe three times a year. It was a pretty nice suit because one of my customers was the same size, he had to wear them and I told him once he really looked good in them. He had to upgrade every year, to, as he put it "Keep up with the pretty petty people." I asked him if he meant pretty, petty people and he grinned.

"No, I said it right. They're all as nice looking as money can buy, and the rich, especially the super-rich, can be as petty as third graders squabbling over a kickball."

He went on to tell me he put up with their whining because they made him rich. "You'd be amazed at what you can put up with for the right amount of money."

Every time he upgraded, he'd give me a couple of old suits. "Keep what you want; give the rest away. I write them off as a business expense anyway."

The upshot of that was I owned about half a dozen really nice suits, along with shirts, ties, and shoes. If I had to dress up, I could look really professional. The suit was to meet one of his asshole clients. The guy was worth twenty mil, and he tried to nickel and dime me. I told him I didn't think I could fit him into my schedule for six months and he got huffy.

"Drop somebody."

"That's not good business."

"Do you know who I am?"

By now he had pissed me off. "Some entitled asshole? I'm sorry Mr. Jeffreys, after reviewing my schedule I won't be able to do business with you. Best of luck finding someone else." He was still ranting as I got into my truck.

I was on the phone to all my friends in my line of work as I drove away, warning them. Mr. Jeffreys was about to discover there was a dearth of carpenters in this city.

The drink was excellent and I complimented the bartender.

"Thanks. I pride myself in giving a good pour."

"I wasn't referencing the alcohol, but the way it was blended. It has exactly the right balance. May I have just one more?"

She served it with a flourish and I revised my initial assessment. The place was very elegant. Understated, was the word that came to mind.

I noticed people as they filtered in. Mr. Jeffreys insisted we meet on his schedule, so it was just after eight. One woman sat beside me and smiled. "Are you here for the poetry?"

"Sorry, no. I just stopped in for a quick drink."

She eyed my suit and grinned. "You should stay, maybe slum a little. Some nights are quite good. Others, well, I apologize in advance."

I started to tell her this place was several cuts above what I usually frequented when the lights went on over a little stage. A guy fumbled with the microphone for a few minutes before he declared it ready. The crowd was mixed, a lot of what looked like college students, a few middle-aged professionals, judging by their dress, and a good few retirees. They all seemed to know each other and the banter flowed.

The MC stepped up to the mike. "Good evening! It's nice to see all of you! For those who may not be familiar with our system, let me explain. We are primarily interested in original poetry, but we allow those who want to read a piece from others that have meaning to them. Remember, it takes a lot of courage to stand up here and basically bare your soul, so be polite. And if you're new, and you feel the urge, tell the bartender or waitress, and we'll find a spot for you. Enjoy."

A young woman got up. She had to be in her teens and she fumbled the first poem, then found her cadence, shutting her eyes and letting the words roll off her tongue. Her last poem, about the death of a pet, moved many to tears. The applause was much more than polite when she was finished.

The ones who followed were a mixed bag. Some needed to seriously consider another hobby; others definitely needed a wider audience. My new friend got up and I felt the temperature rise in the room. She recited a poem I later found was called 'epic,' after the sagas of peoples before the written word. It was about love found, love lost, the lyrical joy of falling in love replaced by the raging sorrow of love lost, before ending on a hopeful note of love still to come.

Tears were in her eyes when she finished, and the applause rocked the room. She smiled and did a little head bob, before walking away from the spotlight. She came up later for a drink and I noticed it was coffee. I had seen more than a few cups so I asked the bartender and she grinned. "This is primarily a coffee shop. I'm a better barista than bartender. Usually, poetry night is the only time we serve alcohol in any quantity. "

I immediately switched over to coffee with just a little cream. She just smiled and called me a Neanderthal as she turned. It was really, really good coffee. I'd never noticed the place before, even though I passed it often in my travels. When I found out they opened at six, I knew my coffeemaker would last me forever because it would rarely be used.

I turned to the woman as she waited for her coffee. "May I buy this cup as a thank you for your words? It was one of the most moving things I've ever heard. It brought out a lot of emotions, and there at the end I wanted to beat the shit out of whoever hurt you."

I realized what I said and turned red, but before I could apologize, she touched my arm and smiled. "Thank you for your kind words, and truth be told, at the end of that relationship I really wished I had someone around who could beat the shit out of him."

Instead of going back to her table, she stayed. I enjoyed the conversation and just before she left, she asked me a question. "I'm sure this is not what you were expecting when you came in. Did it impress you enough to come back?"

I stood when she did. "Probably. It beats sitting at home alone or going to a bar. Are you a regular?"

"Almost every Thursday night. Are you by chance a poet?"

I laughed. "Hardly. I'm famous among my friends for corrupting nursery rhymes, but that's about it."

"Tell me one."

I had to think for a minute, wanting one that was semi-clean. "Jack kissed Jill and it was such a thrill they took it even farther. They lay down and fooled around and now they've got a daughter."

I figured I had insulted her until she giggled. She was still giggling when she went back to her table. It wasn't until I was halfway home that I realized we hadn't exchanged names.

*****

Thursday night found me back again. I got there early and was drinking coffee when she arrived. When she saw me, she came straight to me. "Hello, Handsome Stranger. I'm happy to see you again."

"Hello, Woman of Exotic Beauty. You know, it would save a lot of time if you'd just call me Jack."

Her lyrical giggle came back. I could listen to her just do that into a microphone. "And you may call me Jill. Get it?"

Jack and Jill. I got it. She insisted I sit at her table. There were three more women and a man there. The man did not look happy to see me. I found they were all middle school teachers. Jill taught English, like that was a surprise. Two taught math, another history, and the man was a gym teacher and football coach. None were married, and I got the feeling as the night went by that Mr. Physical Education had hit on all of them. Jill even moved a little closer to me at one point and I saw his frown.

She was the prettiest of the bunch, and the others were almost as attractive. I couldn't remember teachers looking like that when I was in middle school. The youngest teacher I had was forty-five, and the gym teacher was so out of shape that he got winded blowing his whistle. At least this guy had a little definition.

The poetry started, and we sat and let the words wash over us. Again, it was a mixed bag. One guy was pretty bad until he switched from his stuff to a litany of seventeenth-century poems about love. He really shined at that. Jill got up and did a short poem, about the resilience of hope against adversity that was both moving and on point. The night was about over when she whispered something to the MC.

"Ladies, gentlemen, it has come to my attention we have a satirist here tonight, a man who can turn even nursery rhymes into adult content. He's not expecting this, but Jack, will you give us a couple? It'll be a great counterpoint to the night and maybe everyone can leave with a smile."

Jill was grinning as she pulled me up. "Yes, I ambushed you. If you do a couple, I would be very grateful."

"It'll cost you a kiss. Not on the cheek either. I'm not expecting tongue, but if you kiss as well as I think you do, it will still be outstanding."

She went several shades of red because almost everybody heard me. They applauded and cheered when she nodded her head yes.

I just stood for a few seconds, gathering courage. I did the Jack and Jill bit first, then went through a few more. Little Miss Muffet had them laughing hard, and I was on a roll so I thought I'd throw in a limerick or two.

"There was a girl from Nantucket, whose favorite expression was f...."

The MC grabbed the mic. "That's all we have time for tonight. Thank all of you for coming and participating, especially Jack. We'll never quite look at a nursery rhyme the same again. Good night."

The lights came up and some stood to leave when the chant began. "Kiss, kiss, kiss..."

Jill grinned and grabbed my head to pull me down to her level. The kiss was unexpectedly hot and I lost myself in it for a few seconds. I didn't realize my eyes were closed until I felt her tongue swipe against my teeth. Then my eyes flew open and she stood back smiling.

"There you go."

"Pick somebody you want gone and he'll disappear, for another kiss."

Her eyes flicked towards the gym teacher, who stood glowering at us. I leaned in and whispered. "I'll do him for free. Pick someone worth it."

The giggle came back as her friends dragged her away. I found myself looking up poetry and reading everything I could. I researched nursery rhymes for new material.

Jill always gave me a kiss on the cheek when she got there, and a small one on the mouth goodbye. The math teacher kissed my cheek once and her eyes tightened. Maybe there was a little something there.

That was when I got an opportunity of a lifetime. I was doing work for the man who gave me the suits, and he was complaining to his wife. "I hate to let these tickets go. We may never get the chance to see her again. Why don't you take your sister?"

"Because when your business trip was booked, we decided to spend a weekend at the spa. It's too expensive to pass on."

"She's the future of poetry in America. How often do you think one would get the chance to say I saw Amanda Gorman when she was young?"

I knew who Amanda Gorman was. We all heard her at the inauguration a couple of years ago. It was an uplifting experience in some very troubling times.

I caught him as I was preparing to leave. "Mr. Hastings, can I ask a favor?"

He looked at me quizzically. In the three years I'd worked for him I'd never asked for anything, He had to almost force me to take the suits, at first.

"If I can help you, I will."

"Can I buy those tickets from you? I know a poet and she would really like to see Miss Gorman."

"This poet, is she special to you?"

"I'd like her to be."

"Well, Son, these tickets will earn you a lot of brownie points. You can have them. They didn't cost me anything, and it would make me happy to think someone who truly appreciates it could use them."

I was so happy I couldn't form words. He clapped me on the shoulder. "Tell me how it goes."

Then he gave me another suit to wear for the occasion.

*****

The event was in three weeks' time. That Thursday as she kissed my cheek, she noticed my nervous grin. We'd known each other for five weeks, but had never been on a date.

"What?"

"I have something to ask you."

She grabbed my hand. "Ask me at the table."

"No. I'd rather do it here."

Her smile kind of faded. "What is it?"

"I got these tickets to an event, and you're the reason why. It would be a great honor if you would accompany me."

"What kind of event?"

"A reading and conversation with a noted poet."

"Who?"

"Amanda Gorman."

For a minute I thought she was going to faint. "Seriously? You know this has been sold out for eight months."

"Seriously. I got them from a friend of mine who couldn't go because of business. I told him about you and he gave me the tickets."

Her scream shook the rafters. Everyone turned to see what was going on. What was going on was Jill dancing, crying, and kissing me every once in a while. When what caused her celebration went round the room there was a lot of congratulations and a few hard stares, especially from Mr. Physically Fit. I just grinned.

I don't think she let go of my hand the rest of the night, almost dragging me up on stage with her. When it came time to leave, she smiled. "I sent the others ahead. You need to know where to pick me up, so you're taking me home."

I was a little worried about my vehicle, a twelve-year-old Sport Trac, but she smiled when she saw it. It was the last year they made them, and I got a really good bargain when I bought it. I kept it looking like it just rolled off the showroom floor.

"My uncle had one of these. I always said I would get one when I grew up, but reality made me purchase a little jellybean of a car. It's a good vehicle, but it can't hold a candle to this. It made me sad when they decided not to make them anymore."

"They thought about bringing it back, but decided to concentrate on the new Ranger and Bronco designs. They're nice vehicles, but not in the same league with this."

She shared an apartment with another teacher and she didn't invite me in. I still got enough kisses to steam the windows before she got out.

*****

I showed her a photo of the suit Mr. Hastings had given me, surprised it was a tuxedo.

"This is a formal event. I needed a tux."

After I showed it to Jill, she shopped for two weeks straight before she found the "perfect dress." It fit her petite frame like a glove and the four-inch heels made her closer to my height. The event was all inclusive, including a buffet and wine reception after the readings.

The poet appeared. She had matured in the two-plus years since the inauguration, but she wore it well, giving her a "stateliness" that was plain to see. By now a past master at the meet and greet portion of the night, she was especially gracious when I told her Jill was a pretty good poet in her own right.

Jill blushed to her roots and told Miss Gorman it was just a hobby, explaining the Thursday night poetry readings at the club. She smiled, saying she remembered her college days when she did much the same thing. She was whisked away by her handlers and we didn't see her until she did the reading and answered questions. The light buffet was very nice. I tasted foods I couldn't even pronounce, and had certainly never eaten. I tired caviar for the first time and was not impressed. The escargot was excellent, though. I drank one glass of wine and stuck to water after that.

Jill drank enough to make her a little giggly, and I was not happy with the attention she was getting. One guy thought he was being discreet, but after his hand brushed her butt the second time, I was ready. When he went south, I grabbed his hand, forcing the fingers back.

"You like this hand, asshole? Because if you try touching her ass again, I'm going to break every finger on it. Twice. It'll be quite a while before you try to grope another woman. We communicating here?"

I said it in a soft hiss, and his eye went wide when he saw my expression. He nodded like a bobble=head doll and when I turned him loose, he suddenly remembered someone he wanted to talk with all the way across the hall. I turned to see a woman his age with a smirk on her face.

That quickly turned to anger. "I can assure you the lesson you just taught my husband will stay with him because I intend to reinforce it from time to time. I hope you and your wife have a pleasant evening."

With that, she stalked across the room. Her husband looked like a trapped rat, his eyes darting around for a way out. She didn't scream at him, but whatever she said to him in a whisper made him turn pale. He didn't get out of arm's reach of her the rest of the night. He may as well have worn a leash.

Jill finally figured out it wasn't me touching her, and she went kind of pale and started apologizing. I gave her a peck on the lips and she locked down on my hand, not letting go until we were in our vehicle.

*****

Two days later she called me, bubbling over. "Guess what?"

"You've decided you can't live without me and are about to pledge your eternal love?"

There was a little silence. "That'll be later. No, Amanda Gorman called and asked a favor."

"What did she ask for?"

"I'll tell you tonight. Come pick me up early tonight. We have to stop somewhere on the way to the club. Lo... see you tonight."

That put a grin on my face for the rest of the day. Mr. Hastings asked and I told him about the night, minus the bottom gropes. He sighed. "I really wanted to see her, but I liked seeing my bank account grow more. I landed a whale that week, so it was worth it."

I had no idea what he did or what he was even talking about, but I knew he was very successful. I finished the restoration of his staircase, reproducing the rotted spindles on the lathe I had in my workshop. He'd bought an old Sears kit house from 1912, mostly because his wife demanded it. It was one of the biggest they offered, a two-story monster. I think he said it cost three thousand dollars at the time, and that was a fortune. His wife was the one who fell in love with it, even though it needed major work. I'd been at it off and on for two years and wasn't anywhere close to being done.

I was a carpenter, specializing in restorative work. I can repair or remake just about everything wooden or plaster, so I was in high demand. I charged seventy dollars an hour, twenty dollars higher than the norm for a regular carpenter, and I had to turn down work. I firmly believed that compared to most other trades, carpenters were woefully undervalued. That was why there were so few entering the field. That was going to bite a lot of people in the next twenty years.

Jill had no idea what I did, only that I owned my own company and was fairly successful. I made just under 200,000 the previous year, before taxes. I was single, and thanks to my dad, fairly cautious with my money. My investment portfolio already rivaled many of those in their fifties, and was only getting fatter. It was my plan to emulate my father and retire at 50, hopefully without bad knees.

I picked Jill up early and we drove to the most exclusive hotel in town. Jill sent a text, and minutes later someone appeared beside the vehicle. Jill got out and hugged this person before they both got into the truck. The slight woman pulled her hoodie back and Jill grinned at my expression.

It was Angela Gorman! Frustrated with the rigid structure of her life, she decided to take a few days off and spend it any way she wished, and what she wished for was a night with ordinary people who loved poetry just for the sake of poetry. She was going to the club with us.

Most average people didn't know who she was or would recognize her on the streets. Jill just introduced her as a friend in town for the night, and they welcomed her with open arms. I was amused when the gym rat tried to impress her, and she instinctively moved closer to me. Jill saw what was going on, glared at the guy, then got up and put Angela between us.

The readings started. I begged Jill to recite the first poem I'd ever heard her do, the saga of love. It was an eighteen-minute piece, and when it was over the applause was just as loud as the first time. Then she surprised everyone by asking her friend Angie to recite something. Miss Gorman got up and did a few new ones that weren't published yet, to great acclaim. I thought the night was over when the crowd started clamoring for Naughty Nursery Rhymes and I was almost shoved onstage. I did the Jack and Jill one, and a few I hadn't done yet.