Twin Cities 1, or The Kindness of Strangers

It isn't as hot as I thought it's be. I have memories of Minnesota summers, of fist-sized mosquitos and a thick, unwavering, sticky heat: grass and sweat, and slow-moving people. But this time, summer is coming in cycles: heat, building humidity, then a storm, a cooling, a drying-out. It's already softening my skin, my smiles. Even my teeth don't seem as sharp here as they do among the newer mountains.

My arrival was the usual flurry of poet godliness - a meeting at the airport, a whisking off to delicious dinner and patient errand-running (these airline laws about me not being allowed to carry a whole bottle of hair gel on board has really got my groat), followed by an near-impromptu sleeping arrangement among cats and air mattresses.

It's a good life, the road.

Today, I got to meet my entire team for the first time - tired, stressed, and somewhat bedraggled, but absolutely ready for the intense weekend. We held a fundraiser slam tonight, which was only disappointing in its lack of community support - not a single member of the two other Twin Cities teams showed up. They're tired, I was told. There have been events every night this week, and everyone's trying to rest up for Nationals. I understand, but I'm irritated for my team. They worked hard to put this together. It doesn't seem fair. I don't want them to think the more experienced teams don't care about their sweetie rookie selves.

Nevertheless, the slam went well - I even competed, and came in dead last, but to good reviews from the audience. I got to see my team compete live, which got me excited to work with them. And now I'm at Lici's (only using nicknames, since I don't have their permission - but anyone who knows Slovak will know this poet's real name) parent's house, in one of their two guest rooms. This sweet, old, beautiful, spacious house, with its solid floors and thick doors, ceiling fans and wide wooden windowsills. It reminds me of Aunt G and Uncle H's house in Cresskill. I am sleeping under a patchwork quilt in a room that smells more like home than any I've been in in over a year. Lici's parents will make us brunch in the morning, before we start rehearsing.