Open Mic Night in Moab, Utah

Friday night was "open mic night" at the Wake and Bake Cafe in Moab, Utah. The local paper has advertised the event for the last month so I decided to give it a try. Moab is so small, with so few things to do at night that any event is usually worth attending.
What do you imagine that a poetry reading would be like? I first see a bunch of twenty to thirty something guys in goatees, black turtleneck sweaters, berets, and of course bongo drums, reading poetry about how life isn't fair. My next vision is Mike Meyers on stage in, "So I Married and Axe Murderer". The jazz quartet riffing while Mike lays down the lines with a cigarette wedged between his fingers' (one of my favorite movies when I'm feeling down and need a good laugh).

I arrive at the cafe at 6:15, probably 10 people sitting at various tables and couches. I immediately spot a couple that I met at a poetry event last month. I pull up a chair and we catch up on the latest news. Other people stream in and the place starts to fill up with chatter. The crowd is diverse, probably 30 people total; locals, new comers, river guides, musicians and retirees. I recognize a few more faces, some have visited me in the art gallery, some I met at the Red Rock Bakery. The lady scheduling the poets asks if I'm reading tonight?, "No Mame, just hear to listen". I order a beer from the waiter.

First poet tonight is Phil, an artist (oil painter) who recently invited me to coffee with him and his wife, really nice people as are most in this town. Phil used to teach poetry in California before moving to Moab. He's followed by probably 8-10 other poets including a local musician Scott Ibex who I've gotten to know recently. Scott reads a short story about a girlfriend in New York that he loved and lost. He opens up his inner thoughts and shines a spotlight on his painful broken heart. The room sits silently as he details in five or six pages the beauty he once cherished and the total abandonment he now feels. I sit quietly, hanging on every word hoping no one sees the dampness in my eyes as he's story crushes me. 

One lady sings the blues and recites a poem about her ex-lovers, another reads about her mom, still another about the birds in her backyard. I clap after each reading and am thankful for the chance to hear from these folks and catch up with my new friends.

For more information you can visit the Moab Poets and Writers at: http://www.moabpoetsandwriters.org