A woman with long silver hair – silver like unicorns, not bracelets – jumped to feet, shouting and clapping her hands above her head. She might have been crazy, I really don’t know. She was enthusiastic. The rest of us remained seated. But while she jumped and screamed compliments toward the podium, we clapped.
Like you would after a great bit of stand-up comedy.
Like you would after a particularly rousing line at a political rally.
This was unlike any other poetry reading I’ve ever attended.