Reloaded

Hello, I’m back.
I suppose there should have been some kind of silence as I stepped up and took the mic again.
Just my footsteps.
And, like, the silence might be broken, someone shouts
‘Who the f**k is this guy?’ and, for once, I know the right answer,
and the audience laughs ‘cos they know the right answers too.
Seriously, you just have to look at me to know who I am.

Maybe I’m wearing something spectacular, like a pair of old Converse pumps, the kind that just scream
‘Look at me! Look how wacky I am!’
And maybe a cool baseball cap, ‘cos hats only look good on my head in my head.

But I’ve let the dramatic pause go on too long and some kind of row has kicked off, at the back, near the bar, I think.
So I levitate my ass off of the stage and hover through the audience like I’m Keanu f****n Reeves, and the guy wants a piece, so I’m throwing up kicks and shit like I’m someone special and amazing…

A friend told me in a dream last night that they’re leaving for New York, maybe four months, maybe forever.
And I know it’s not real or anything, but it had a real ‘end of school’ feel about it, like all this was inevitable or something.
But, you know, everything’s inevitable if you wait long enough.