Slam Poetry

Maggie Smith
[cha+perform]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 5 )

Maggie Smith
"I will not bore you with my poetry," she starts.

And that was how she warned them, that she was not going to be reading her own works- did Maggie even write poetry?

When a woman like that takes the stage, the world stops. When she takes the stage, people stop and pay attention to her. People notice that she is of an unremarkable build, and if anyone said anything other than she was pretty and European Maggie would have been insulted. She did not want to know what people thought of her appearance, she cared more about what people felt about her voice and the words she was speaking than she cared about her breasts. She cared that people knew her words. She cared that people heard.

---

The coffee shop was a certain kind special. There were hipsters, beatniks, people with trust funds and money and a love of the kind of expensive coffee that people could all but bathe in when they had funds to do so.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is where we open the scene, with coffee and poetry.

Verna Gardner
Others sip their expensive coffee. Verna sips her water as though it is some expensive organic fruit juice. It is Denver tap water with some ice in. It has to do.

There are coffee shops, and then there are coffee shops. The one in which she happened to run into Jon Marc was not the type to host an open mic session. And it's that small distinction, not to mention the distinction of this place's clientele that eases Verna's nerves.

He won't show up for poetry night. Surely.

She's been here for a while, listening. The table she sits at remains empty though -- just a lonely girl out for the evening. But when Maggie takes the stage, she recognizes the woman. They spoke of the sea once -- of the beautiful strange monsters that prowl in the deep darkness.

The recognition brings a smile to her face -- rare these days and nights that she mostly spends in tense anticipation of the future. Whatever tomorrow brings, she'd rather bury her head and forget about.

Maggie Smith
"I will not bore with words

that mean nothing

and I will not bore you with symbols

that mean nothing

to anyone but me.

I will not subject you to my esotericisms.

I will not."

She starts with that, someone else's words perhaps, or perhaps someone else's emotions, because she is there and she is a conduit for words. This was something better than her pottery, this was something that was inspired, and she stood there in her white suit and the deep V in the front that dared to avoid near perfect cleavage and Magdalena spoke. People forgot about their lattes and, instead, art became a statement. Art became a presence. Art became the word, the highlight of the evening.

There were other poems, of course, words from other people. She favored the work of William Carlos Williams. She favored things that were stripped bare. She recited things from memory that were so long and obscure that even the English majors couldn't place her work.

Maggie glowed when she spoke.

"I said I would not subject you to my poetry.

And I lied."

Verna Gardner
Maggie -- wasn't that her name? She's brilliant at this. It's something Verna could never do -- stand in front of a crowd like that and just pour out the words like water.

It's enough to make Verna jealous. People like Maggie, do they even know what gifts they have? To just... do that?

Whatever. When the time comes to clap, Verna claps and smiles and whatever green envy she holds is hidden behind that smile. It was so very good. Maggie knows words and working a crowd the way Verna knows her equations. We are all good at our own thing, right?

Maggie Smith
The poetry stops and people applaud and Maggie, all bright and blushing and content, was happy to take herself off the stage, only to find herself again in a crowd of strangers who were content to talk to her, but not for long. For seas to part and remind her again that she was alone until she saw Verna.

Magdalena smiled, genuine, and headed along her way.

"Verna?" Vair-nah?

Verna Gardner
Oh! She is remembered. Maggie shows up, and Verna gestures toward a free seat at her table, with a little shy smile to go with it.

"Yes! I remember you. Maggie. From the aquarium, right? You were amazing up there. I guess pottery isn't your only talent, is it?"

Maggie Smith
"Other poets make it easy," she smiles brightly, ever so brightly and she settles into a seat which was at once comfortable and overly opulent. There was something about the way the wood was carved that made Maggie look like she belonged on a wall somewhere. "All I have to do is remember them and their intention. Performance art is a joy."

Verna Gardner
"There's nothing easy about getting up on stage and performing," Verna says, with obvious horror at the very prospect. "You make it look easy."

She sips on her water, and tries to look half as cultured and with it as the rest of the people in the place. It's not too difficult for her. She puts a certain level of effort into the performance of herself. There is little that one might find off-putting about Verna, save for a touch of distracted sadness.

Another has taken the stage, but they are not nearly as passionate and brilliant as Maggie. They are easy to ignore.

"Do you perform often?"

Maggie Smith
"There is a musician who performs only with her back to the audience, because she does not wish to see the crowd, and her music is some of the most beautiful I have heard," she said with a sigh. A happy sigh, a contented sigh. A sigh that speaks volumes of her and her state of being.

"I perform often, it is less scary than it was when I first start? It was horrible first performance in America. My English was not so good."

Verna Gardner
Maggie's English reminds her of someone else whose English wasn't exactly perfect -- he whose accent she could have listened to forever. And there goes that distracted sadness, as Verna's gaze goes soft and her smile eases off.

"I can imagine. I would be terrified," Verna says, trying to pull herself back into the conversation at hand.

"That could be a trick for me to use, you think? I'll just stand in front of the class with my back to them the whole time, lecturing to the chalkboard? But I hate professors who do that," Verna sighs. "I start teaching Monday. It's going to be interesting."

She says the word 'interesting' as though 'interesting' were synonymous with 'Hell'.

Maggie Smith
"Oooh, what do you teach? you are very passionate of science, you should teach science."

Maggie nods, as though this was the perfect field for Verna and she knew what she needed to do.

Verna Gardner
"I'm going to be teaching an introduction to physics class, and also remedial mathematics. So, yes. I will be teaching at least some science. And I'll be starting grad school myself," she laughs a nervous little twitter. "So, fun fun."

She twists  the straw leading to her water. It makes that kind of plastic-on-plastic scree that seems to mirror her excitement and terror that threatens to bubble over for the next few days. It'll get easier once school starts, won't it? She won't have the time to be afraid anymore.

Maggie Smith
"Oh, you will be fine, students who want to learn will learn,"  she says, she even pats Verna on the arm to punctuate that she had the utmost faith in the woman. Maggie's nails are red and she has a wedding ring on the size of Kansas. It doesn't seem to dawn on her that she is opulent, or that people may think less of her for her painted up barbie doll-ness.

"Those who don't will fail, and that is sad, but inevitable. I could never teach, I am too easy to grade."

Verna Gardner
"How many students do you think want to learn remedial math?" Verna says, and gives Maggie a pointed look. She has so little faith in her future charges.

"I don't think it will be that difficult for me to grade. At least with what I'm teaching, you either get the right answer or you don't. There's very little in between."

No, it's not grading that will be difficult. It's the being up there in front of everyone. It's the stuttering halting shutdown that happens when all eyes are on Verna Gardner.

Maggie Smith
"The ones who want to graduate."

Verna Gardner
Verna shrugs. "True."

She looks down at her water, sips a bit from the straw, and uses the occasion to surreptitiously check out Maggie's ring. High class and artistic and beautiful and can perform?

She smiles at Maggie, this perfection in woman form. "I'll be fine. I know I will. It's just jitters. I'm allowed a little nervousness, aren't I?"