Roadie Poet

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Roadie Poet: Drab

Author: Susan Helene Gottfried

If you’ve never met Roadie Poet, definitely take a stroll through his archives. It won’t take you long to see why he’s got a cult following all his own. There’s something drab about Places like this. They’re all the same. Generic. This is what it looks like when you’re a roadie. The color’s on the […]

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Roadie Poet: Peach Guts

Author: Susan Helene Gottfried

No clue where this came from. Or why. Or even how. The Three Word Wednesday words this week were pretty dark — control, flesh, razor — but this… isn’t. You have to have control to slip the blade between the skin and the flesh. Like this. Slow. Don’t breathe. Much. Or talk. Don’t do that […]

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Roadie Poet: New Year’s Eve

Author: Susan Helene Gottfried

New Year’s Eve. I’m off tour. More’s still out. So’s Hambone. Mom’s with Antonio. They’re going strong. That means tonight It’s just me. Alone. For New Year’s Eve. Used to be, I thought only losers were alone on New Year’s Eve. I’m no loser. If anything, I’m a nomad. A nomad With friends On tour. […]

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Roadie Poet: Ghost

Author: Susan Helene Gottfried

Last night of the tour. I walk across the stage. Last time. Not that I’m nostalgic. Or glad to be done. It’s the footprint. Just one. Back near the speaker stack. One footprint. Like a ghost. Hambone says it’s a size 18. I’m an 11. I’ll take his word for it. Band’s guitar tech, Jimmy, […]

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Roadie Poet: Moist

Author: Susan Helene Gottfried

“Moist,” Hambone proclaims. “Moist and meaty.” He digs back into his steak. Poor thing. Dead. Harmless. Doesn’t deserve the treatment Ham’s giving it. I don’t know who said steak deserves anything. ‘Cept getting eat. You don’t get steak on a roadie’s contract. That means we’re in a restaurant. Me and Hambone. I almost forgot my […]

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