poetry night

i am a poet. just a poet. i like to write and then i like to read it aloud. i never thought much about it.
so i think its funny when i scan my facebook and pick out all the poets with their crispy new headshots pasted to their profile. are you an actor? are you a rockstar? or are you just so beautiful that it had to be shared?…
is it an art i practice or just rehearsal time? am i writing or writing to perform?
the man at the bar says, i got to hustle. got to hustle to make that artist money. i tell him i am not interested in making money off my art. he says its a shame. eh. i would like to think that if i ever meant to make money off writing my degree would be in publishing. i dont have a printer. never bound a book. never charged someone to watch me read aloud. but now i gotta hustle.
hustle hustle.
take that headshot. put on a show. perform. rehearse. perform.
and the poetry is the job. and the bueracracy that comes with it.
and i get tired.
and on tuesdays, sometimes, and i dont want to go. and if i do i just want to crunch numbers. chit chat. and drink a few beers.
then he tells me, i get one night off every 2 weeks. thats poetry night. it might be a job. but its all i get. so stop bitching.