And it was Magic

A few weeks ago, I attended a poetry slam - my first one since leaving college.

The attending group were different from the normal cohort I've been associating with for the past two years. There were poems by first-timers, and never-before-heard poems, and poetry performed by an attendee of national poetry slams. Many of the poems were mediocre, but gained

Except for one.

The poet, a young man in full beard and black t-shirt with some form of rainbow parody on Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon," got up, and spoke heart-rendingly about numbers, outlawing them, and getting paid in moments and magic.

And it was magic.

This is not the poem he performed, but this is a poem he performed.