Back in July, I thought she had won the open mic. She had definitely shown them something they hadn't seen, including dragging me up on stage in a thrift store doctor's costume. She wrote the poem, but she lifted the title from me: The Disability Industrial Complex.
It's a real thing, the triumvirate of pharmaceutical companies, doctors, and government that take sane, healthy people in moments of crisis and make them into profitable cripples.
It was a fun gig, I threw Mike & Ike candies symbolizing pills into the crowd and used a flat iron to simulate ECT.
I just forgot, at the time, to blog it, what with stopping at Town Topic after for dinner and getting up at 4:45 the next morning to bike to work.
But the best part was Kenny on Corinna's bike. I'm not sure how it started, but he wanted to ride her bike, which was parked in a hallway of the jazz museum by mine. Hell, at his age, who would want to spend the whole evening hanging out at a poetry event?
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