Page 108 of The Black Flamingo

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I say, and I don’t know if I’m still joking.

My phone buzzes.

I pass the spliff back to Lennie.

It’s my calendar, a reminder for

“Open mic night.” Tonight!

I haven’t arranged to go with anyone.

“Lennie, have you got plans tonight?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Lennie says,

with a mischievous smile.

I pause. Thinking if I did ask him on a date,

would he be interested? Would I be

interested in dating Lennie? “No.

I want to go to open mic night tonight.”

“That sounds awful.” Lennie laughs.

“I’d rather smoke on my own

and listen to quality music, not awful covers

and wannabe singer-songwriters.”

“There’s poetry, too!” I say enthusiastically.

“Stop! You’re making it worse,” laughs Lennie,

passing the spliff back to me. “Mikey boy,

you’re on your own.”

I decide I like how Lennie’s chosen

to call me Mikey.

I arrive just in time

to sign up for the last of twelve open mic slots.

The night is exactly what Lennie said

it would be. The Students’ Union bar

is usually so busy, but it seems people have

avoided it tonight.

It’s mostly just the performers;

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