Poem: This One Hurt

A poem about meeting Alejandro Escovedo, after drinking all night at a wedding

I met Alejandro Escovedo after his gig.
He was signing posters and things,
he gave me a laminated backstage pass,
signed — and I turned it into my favourite

bookmark. I was drunk, been at a wedding,
and I saw him stare right through me; felt
his eyes. So I cut short the conversation
and trudged home clutching the lanyard.

A few months later I lost it in an airport,
on my birthday. Then gave up drinking
very shortly after. They say never meet
your heroes, and I’ve had experiences

either way. But I sure wish I had that
bookmark still, and I still wonder which
word I slurred. Must have been one dead
giveaway. I’m usually good at covering

my tracks. But Alejandro was a junkie.
So he’s obviously even better at that.