I think I need to ride bigger water. We finish dinner. Turn down dessert in favor of getting to the theater a little earlier. The poetry slam is similar to the spoken word competition, except the poets perform their own original work. Some of it is funny. Some of it is sexy. Some of it reflects the time— unemployment, foreclosure. War. Depression. Loss. A couple of times as people take the stage Jonah lets me know they were in his classes at some point. See that guy there? he whispers. He actually gets paid to teach performance poetry at schools. Pretty cool gig, don’t you think? I do, actually. Making a living doing something creative, not to mention something you love, has immense appeal. It’s a great evening, topping off a fabulous day. On the way home, I find myself happy. Why does that strike me as strange? How long has it been since I’ve felt content? What’s even more interesting is this feeling has nothing to do with alcohol—two glasses of wine at dinner, and that was hours ago— or pills.
