the Cantab

the Cantab is a small club at the edge of the heart of Central Square in which a particular poetry slam team practices performs and picks on the audience when it isn't clapping loud enough

the Cantab poetry slam team is going to nationals next week. did you know there were poetry slam nationals? did you know there were poetry slams? now i do, i can go to them every wednesday. i'll bet i can even order drinks if i wanted to. the first hour and a half is an open mic, populated by locals who all seem to know each others' poems word for word and cheer and make jokes about each other into the microphone that everyone got but i didn't get. there's a lot of you poems and some me poems and them poems too, and then there is a very loooooonnnnnnggggg cigarette break before the team moves in for the kill until just past 11 pm.

the team was an unsuspecting mix of a pretty white girl, an older and sophisticated looking bald black man with a well-kept goatee, a skinny white dude in a v-neck tee shirt, a huge black guy decked out in the finest street garb, and a small, quiet, powerful looking gal who spoke softly but yelled when it mattered. their poems didn't all hit home but for the most part they were great. i shivered, i laughed, i felt out of place, i watched the kids in the corner as they mouthed to words to every poem the skinny dude performed.

some memorable lines, or some semblance of them:

tonight, stupid people are making love.

i want you to lick your lips so you can taste where i came, and went.
(during this poem one of the open mic poets in the back started shouting "AAHHHHHHHHH" and when it was over she announced loudly "i feel GROOOSSSS!")

for anyone who has ever shampooed their hair...

the flattened pennies of your nipples are staring at me!

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