One mans observation....
Mpls poets seem to be more independent, maybe even a little stand offish.
Saint Paul poets seem to need to work in teams, writing groups, travel in a pack.
One night I went to see a guy named Kevin Fitzpatrick read at the University Club.
After his set, I approached him.
I don't do that kinda thing too often.
After talking with him, and telling him how much I enjoyed his set, he was kind enough to give me his Greatest Hits 1975-2000 book.
Keeping in theme with the title of tonight's post, let me present a poem Kevin wrote entitled......
Its still there
Paint chipped and signless
The pole which once proclaimed
In the middle of the Lake Street bridge
MINNEAPOLIS ST. PAUL
Whose side you were on
Essential one spring
When these cities seethed an hour apart
Over daylight savings
I'd forgotten that, until this morning
At dawn driving from Minneapolis
Those streetlights, west of the pole, were already off
While those east of St. Paul blazed orange
I shifted up Marshall hill
Checking my rearview mirror
So they're still at it
As if O'Brien's Bar, gone years
Were open again, serving St. Paul
Where Harry tells off a customer
Who admits from being from Minneapolis
Get the hell out
You're all Swedes or Republicans
Which rattles my friend Jim
A colonel's son who has lived all over
And has cornered me with his hope
Of one world in this lifetime