Needless to say, OKC was a dip of heaven in a big Red Cup. Twas all I could do to get on the plane and head to New York...but it was time. Sigh.

Rolled into LaGuardia and took a cab to the brownstone of one of my favorite people in the Universe, April Jones. When I rolled up, there was some concern about the health of her newly acquired Animal Control kitty, Lil' Low Jenkins, so I experienced my first Apple Cab as we rolled to the vet and got LLJ checked out. Super sicky kitty. After that, we played catch-up, but both of us humans were exhausted and crashed hard.

Jump forward to: a few nights later, after much chilling and decompressing, it was The Night. My feature at the Nuyorican! Woot! Before I headed out to the Nuyo, I took the bus to the domicile of Geoff and Emily Kagan-Trenchard for a Shabbat dinner. SO freaking good. All the food was bomb, the wine was flowing...I really just wanted to stay there and get lazy and gorgeous with the crew, but I was directed to the subway and told where to get off.

I didn't get off there. I blame it on my buzzy head.

So by the time I realized how OFF I was, Mo Browne was calling me, all, "you are on in, like 7 minutes. GET IN A CAB." And I did. And I made it at the Zero Hour, ready to go! Except the doorman wouldn't let me in. Even the word of the illustrious Sean Patrick Conlon wasn't enough! I was eventually cleared, the lights went down, I was ushered to the stage, the DJ played BBD's "Poison", and I did my "what the hell am i doing in this packed place doing the robot in front of hundreds of New Yorkers" dance. Then I got my proper intro...and yeah, it was a GOOD SET. People listened. Responded. Bought books! I would go back in a hot second. And I would still be intimidated. Those folks do not PLAY.

Sunday found me on the Bolt Bus (wifi and outlets made the four hours zoom by like nothin') to Boston, and then the commuter rail to Worcester, where we finally figured out which Asylum host was in town and picking me up! That was the super cool, hella funny Liz Heath, who gave me the 79 cent tour of Worcester, showing me the Turtle Boy statue (WOW. WOW. I mean...WOW), the Tower, The Dead Hooker Pond, and other points of local interest (where to get yer butt grabbed while waiting on your post-midnight pizza, for one). After a groovy dinner at a local Vietnamese joint, I went and did my first feature of the week at The Poets' Asylum, emanating out of Jumpin Juice and Java. Got to see Victor Infante and Lea Deschenes out and repping the West Coasties! Fun set, as I continually made sure I didn't swear per the venue requirements. To compensate, read a poem in the voice of Chris Walken.

Crashed at Casa de Michael McGee that night; his roommate Melinda is extra rad and cooked up some vegan shrimp scampi as I downed a few Miller High Lifes that were left over from the last Kitchen Session and we talked about the road. This is when I started to feel like a real touring poet. Shit, I had STORIES??? Slept hard and wonderful.

The next afternoon, I kept Mike's bedroom door open and thusly invited in the large longhaired ball of love known as Roger Mindfucker into the room and onto the bed. A few hours later, I had my first allergy attack of the whole tour. Benadryl was my friend, and Melinda The Saint got me to the drugstore so's I could get some. I took a nap when the meds kicked in, and woke with just enough time to get my stuff together and be scooped up by the Hardest Working Man in the Worcester Poem Business, Alex "Organize This" Charalambides. That night, I rocked a raucous set at Alex and Nick Davis' spot The Dirty Gerund (which reminded a LOT of Green back in the day), where fueled by Benadryl, an outstanding cheeseburger and Sam Adams Oktoberfest (best seasonal ever), I rocked two 20 minute sets and sold a whole mess of books! And got to see the first annual Miss Dirty Gerund Pageant! Then went back to Alex and Nick's and demanded all the rock star usuals! Gimme that PBR in the fridge that you guys don't want! Gimme that couch! Grrrrr!

Day 3 of the Northbeast Explosion saw me chilling hard during the day (mmmmm naps), and then being escorted by Tony Brown and Missy to Providence where at Blue State Coffee (one of the coolest coffee joints I have been to--conscious as hell, both in their politics and product knowledge), I did a slightly more literary reading than the night previous, but just as rewarding. Something in the water up there, but people were right--THERE. That night, I sold ALL THE REST OF MY WRITE BLOODY BOOKS.

Day 4: Alex and I went to the Boston Cantab in the eve after running errands during the day. So I knew very little about what to expect about the Cantab except it was a hard one to book, so I was assuming high standards for performance and such. I WAS NOT READY. The open mic was one of the most incredible things I have ever experienced. So many amazing writers, so many new voices, and no one I felt trying to claim a "Cantab style". I was transfixed for TWO HOURS as I kept changing and rearranging my set. By the time I got up there, my voice was creaky and scratchy from hollering and hooting. The lovely April Ranger kept me laced with draft lager, and so my liquid courage was gonna either carry me through or make me crash HARD.

It was one of the best mixes of poignant and rowdy that I've rocked yet. That house made me feel like a rockstar, and I could not have had a better time. Did I mention that my dear LA expatriot homegirl Krista came to see me? Did I mention Brian Ellis was in the house? Did I mention DJ Muse was on POINT? Did I mention Simone Beaubien won my heart within the first 30 seconds of meeting her, and that I may have left a small part of it in her coat pocket?

Day 5: Very, very low-key day. Ended up getting a new phone charger, as mine somehow went the way of the left laundry socks. That night, Alex, Nick and I went to the Hotel Vernon, where my new rasslin' homey Bobby "Earthquake" Gibbs hosted a helluva fun reading in what I found out later was an old speakeasy back in the prohibition days (even got the basement tour--cool and creepy!) I read on the open, a cover of Lauren Zuniga's "Gas Station Vodka". The feature was April Ranger, who I was happy to hear rock a full set of her very confessional, honest work. AND she matched the stage. Hung with April and Megan Thoma after as we had a few beers and talked about poets and a bunch of stuff within that subset that will not be spilled here.

And here I am today. Talked to fam and friends and leavers of light and love. Walked to the grocery with Nick, 'cause I'm cooking for the boys tonight. Tomorrow, I go with Alex to read some poems at a youth slam function. Then Sunday, I go back to Mike McGee's where I will cap off a perfect week up here by reading with Rachel McKibbens. There will be Victor and Lea opening. There will be Tony Brown hosting. It's like the closing number of the Muppet Show where we all come back together for one big awesome musical jam.

Blessed. Yes.

You brilliant, natural city.
I am leaving my heart in all of your mailboxes.
Sprinkle it in the house blend at the Red Cup.
Dip it in wasabi at the Drunken Fry.
Feed it a slice and a beer at Sauced;
read poems and swap stories with it.

I feel comfortable leaving it with you
because I know you know how to take care of it.

You have shown me meditating frogs
and Wayne Coyne's house
and beautiful old hippies with the word GIVE tattooed on their collarbones.
A community that knows the history of rubble and anarchy
and responds by hugging a little tighter,
rocking the sincerity electric,
shaking hands like they mean it.

Let's make out in the produce section of Homeland.
Let's play Scrabble at Coffy's, peppering our game with giggles and shit-talk.

You open a brother up like dynamite.
Like boom.
Like BOOMER SOONER, your curves are sexy.

I forgive you your 3 point beer and your dry Sundays.
It doesn't take much to get drunk off of you.

Today, on the day I was leaving,
someone I just met excitedly asked if I was new in town.
I wanted to say yes I moved into the Paseo District
and I opened a bar slash comic book shop with mad open mics
and the best salsa you'll ever eat come on over.
Instead I mentioned the Los Angeles I came from
and the New York I was going to. I said I'd be back.
And I will.

When I do return, OKC,
I will run my fingers through your hair
and kiss your sundanced cheeks.
I will breathe you in and my exhale
will be green and possible and the realest thing I've done in years.

Oklahoma City...you make this poet feel like one.