By Brian Dunlap

At the Ugly Mug in Orange Wednesday night, poet Aruni Wijesinghe sat on the couch next to her husband, waiting, as she talked and laughed with friends. Across the room laughter arose from host Ben Trigg. The three ceiling fans whirred above and another fan blew from the back of the room, a welcome relief from another warm Orange County day.

Two Idiots Peddling Poetry was about to kick off with a special feature: Aruni Wijesinghe. It was the release party for her debut poetry collection 2 Revere Place, published by local Orange County press Moon Tide. It’s publisher, Eric Morago, sat in the audience.

2 Revere Place unfolds Wijesinghe’s family’s first 10 years in the United States. The poems move from her parents native Sri Lanka through apartment living in the Bronx, to a quiet Rockland County suburb. These reflections on her and her family’s past are short but capture a distinct family.

In Two Idiots style, the night opened with open mic readers. Poetry of place lead into serious issues that aren’t talked about enough, broken up by Trigg’s comfortable, funny personality between readings, illustrating a familiarity created with the regulars. Johnathan Humanoid was one of the four early open mic readers.

Then Trigg introduced his dear friend.

Before Wijesinghe read a poem she wanted to make clear that 2 Revere Place is not a typical immigrant narrative of coming to America with nothing, struggling for years before finding success and stability, while falling in love with the country. Instead she said, “I’m as American as anyone else.” She was born in the Bronx and raised in Rockland County, New York and Orange County, California. Her parents, she said, shortly after arriving, wanted to save up to return to Sri Lanka.

At one point, Wijesinghe smiled and said, “I never thought I had this many words in me.”

Once Wijesinghe began to read, the most powerful poem she shared was about the first time she was erased. In elementary school she was asked by a white peer, “Where are you from?” And eventually, when she said her family was from Sri Lanka, she was told she was lying, that she made it up because they had never heard of that place. Aruni just didn’t want to admit that she’s Black. Being defined by others’ mouths.

Wijesinghe closed out her eight poems on a light, funny note. This final poem was written from a prompt: retell an embarrassing memory, from a workshop taught by Eric Morago. Hers was about the day she forgot to wear panties to work. Laughter and witty banter from friends about the memory filled the room.

After, the remaining open mic readers read. One of Ellen Webre’s two poems was about identity. Andy Sanchez made their Two Idiots debut. I too, stepped up to the mic. Serious poems followed funny, light poems. More comfortable, witty banter ensued from regulars between poems.

Ben Trigg closed out the night with a funny poem.

And Aruni Wijesinghe said again, she couldn’t believe she’d published a book.