microphones

I went to this writing society launch party that was set up as an open-mic reading night. Before I went up to read a couple pieces, I hashed out all my nervousness (so I thought -- it's amazing how regenerative nerves can be) into a piece that I wrote then and there, messily scrawled on the back of a writing pad. It started, "I hate microphones." I intended to put it here but I seem to have misplaced it and I don't know where to start looking. Maybe it was purely sewn into the evanescence of that moment and no longer needed to exist afterwards. Though I'm quite sure I folded it up and placed it safely in my coat pocket. Maybe it fell out. I wonder.