Hiatus

took a hiatus
the side pocket is where it was slowly inserted 
placed in its holster with safety clip checked
could be innocent children or poets nearby
smile
you can approach me now
no Clint Eastwood squint
I can see clearly 
can think clearly 
my pen 
is now safely in its holster
letting it smolder for a few minutes
the room cleared 
dancehall
now a room where poets gather in rowdy celebration
inebriated
overflowing frothy mugs filled with verbs
adjectives
pronouns shot into the ceiling
and we sat in our wooden chairs
whooping and hollering
careful not call out wayward poets to meet in the dusty road at high noon
a poetic showdown
we all know that a drunken pen can be the most deadliest instrument
widows weeping above poetic graveyards over the hill
and my pen
was safely tucked inside its holster
hung on a nail in the wall
I slept it off
telling the sheriff I was nowhere near the scene of the crime
at least
not this time