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# A.D.D.
- URL: https://gerenm.mymagic.page/a-d-d/
- Published: 2011-05-28T21:47:42.000Z
- Updated: 2011-05-28T21:47:42.000Z
- Author: Geren Mortensen
- Tags: Words, #Migrated-1790799853699, #wp, #wp-post, #Import 2026-09-30 16:24

I've been meaning to put this up for a few months now. I wrote it back in November, after a poetry reading night at Birdies in town. This was my impression, written mostly in about forty minutes after we got home.

> Pretty girl in the red coat  
> And the black stockings  
> And the Audrey Hepburn black hat --  
> Donna makes a reference  
> To Breakfast at Tiffany’s  
> I don’t quite understand.  
>  
> Tales of New York  
> Told from Grandpa’s letters  
> And photographs on the roof.  
> Manhattan is not a mountain top;  
> It never will be.  
> She’s too good for that.  
>  
> The girl in the red coat  
> Is here with friends  
> They chatter for a while  
> In the back room  
> Before getting a table  
> By the radiator.  
> Her friend with the beard  
> Wears an interesting coat.  
>  
> What’s that policeman doing  
> Out in the street?  
> I think I parked legally  
> For what it’s worth.  
>  
> JK (or JC? No, it’s RJ) spits poetry  
> The partner in crime says,  
> Speaking briefly of \[trying hard to remember … nope\]  
> And now Cliff’s on his way to  
> Six months in Afghanistan.  
>  
> A woman reads from her laptop  
> Muttering vaguely about technology  
> Everyone else has papers or books  
> Loses her place  
> When she tries to scroll too fast;  
> Mutters a vague “oh, sh..”  
> Under her breath  
> As she finds  
> Her place  
> And continues reading.  
>  
> An older man speaks  
> Of thinning the buffalo herd,  
> And all I can think is that  
> You can’t roller skate there (in the buffalo herd),  
> And so I missed his point  
> Altogether.  
> But he won’t do Haiku  
> Unless he can do it in  
> Japanese, too.  
>  
> Homeless man walks by  
> Outside the window --  
> Or maybe he’s just some guy traveling through --  
> A hiker or something --  
> He’s got a pretty decent pack and shoes and supplies  
> For a homeless man.  
>  
> Le Hinton.  
> Black on most days,  
> I chuckle  
> Because I think I get it --  
> Reminds me of Elliott.  
> Le closes his book  
> In the key of G-minor.  
> My favorite key.  
>  
> Now, there is music.  
> The man in the red shirt  
> Smiling his way across the street  
> I see through the window  
> Comes in very late --  
> The night is almost over.  
>  
> The man in the red shirt  
> Sits at the table next to the girl  
> In the red coat  
> And the black stockings  
> And the Audrey Hepburn hat  
> There with friends.  
> What’s he drinking?  
>  
> And now,  
> The lovely lady singing  
> About the weather  
> Has a cold behind;  
> Shouldn’t there be a song about tuning?  
> Why didn’t she dress in Layers?  
>  
> Dream a Little Dream of Me  
> Brings childhood memories:  
> WBAL used to play records,  
> And sometimes you could hear them  
> As far south as Georgia.  
> We all sing along  
> With the chorus  
> Because it’s the only part  
> Most of us remember.  
>  
> Driving home --  
> Shoot.  
> Is that my turn?  
> How long have I lived here now?  
> We laugh about it,  
> But is scares me sometimes.  
> Thank goodness for Maggie.

That's pretty much my total impression of an entire evening. I remembered only the scattered details I wrote about, but there was a lot more to the night. It makes me believe I have A.A.D.D., and have probably had it for most of my life. Which explains a lot...