There is a sort of circle in the world of poetry or in any social group. It’s easy to allow yourself on the outside of this circle, especially if you are like me, epileptic and alcoholic. I was afraid that day, and went and sat outside, and found Pagan.
I told him that I didn’t feel well, that I was embarrassed of this. He told me that everything was going to be all right, which is something I had not heard somebody say to me since my mother was alive.
We talked about our boys, and he introduced me to everybody within reach at the event, and to Allen, who I had always wanted to meet. Pagan pulled me into the circle and made me feel like I belonged. Before I left we discussed my epilepsy and smoked some pot, and I gave him one of my special brownies. Pagan gave me a little knife that day that I lost, and am still looking for. I cheered about that knife the entire drive home.
After that day, whenever I knew I was going to see Pagan Neil, I made certain I had one of my special brownies for him. He always had a smile and a hug for me.
The last time I saw Pagan was at the most recent Saturday Night Special, and I had a chocolate knife that I had found for him during the Christmas holidays. In turn he had a poem, not exactly written to me, but with each line beginning with the beginning initial from my name. I took his and Allen’s picture that night, but did not get a copy of the poem.
But I did get to hear him read it, and I have the knowledge that he was going to read it without knowing I was going to be there. By doing this, Pagan has pulled me into the circle again.
I am grateful to say I had a brownie for him.
That night, Pagan gave me another knife, a bright red one. This one has gone into the pocket of my leather with a zipper, so that I will never lose it, so that I will always be in the circle that Pagan Neil pulled me into. Thank you, Pagan. I will miss you.
Nancy Davenport, 3/10/2016