Sunday, November 6, 2011

And now presenting, POETRY!

Laundry Day

The hem of her white dress is stained
Not only with memories, but with an ugly coal-black splat
She wore it to the airport and
The city welcomed her with a rainstorm
She dragged her dress through the angry wetness

Not enough money to wash the dress more than once
Gray hem, a shadow low on her backside
Dirty badge of air travel
Her granny tells her
You always wear that dress
She wore the dress on the airplane in defiance
She still loves her granny

The first time she wore the dress
The boy on the date said nothing about her nor the dress
She wanted him to say something, anything
But he was never good with words
The boy is gone and she kept the dress
Another boy told her she’s beautiful
She thinks he’s lying, that he’s referring to the dress, not her
His eyes were too bright to not be telling the truth

Scraping by on quarters and credit cards
For a pair of clean socks
Saturday is laundry day
Basement reading for class in between loads

She had once crammed too much in the washer to save money
The clothes had spilled out
Full of hot water and soap suds
She had scrambled on hands and knees across the cement floor
Dirtying the one pair of jeans she hadn’t put in that load
Frustrated and tired
Gathering stockings and shirts
The white dress wasn’t washed that week either

Clean clothes are a necessity in cold weather


His hands placed softly across her body
When can I love you gray rain more than laughter
Open skies in the ocean air
Remembering these times past, memories that she wants to hold on to
but knows that she can’t, she shouldn’t
Sandals in November, now boots in December
She brings him close
Do you love me more than candied apples (as I love the freckles on your nose)
Teasing, wanting, needing more than she asked for
Memories of home cut through the sharp winter squalls:
bluest of blues, cluttered sands and seagulls
Sitting on his lap, she rests her chin
in his chestnut curls
Paper boy, she laughs, I cut you out from a magazine
Whispers of sunflowers
Nostalgia of an absence together


FASTER i scream

on the rollercoaster
in the car screeching down the 405
as i run down the street
whirlwind of time
dancing on cobblestones in fanueil hall
watching the seals dance in the water
bobbing with their self-justifiable smiles that
make the children love them so

Maybe, Maybe (Sunflower Thoughts)

You never bought me sunflowers
You never let me cry
You just rubbed my head like a poodle and said
Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.

You never knew what to say

When you said you loved me, it was a bold-faced lie
When I responded, only half of my heart consented.

You wanted to

resolve our issues

as if I was some sort of problem.

Maybe we were too young
Maybe we were too blind
Maybe I didn’t want to never leave you there, waiting.

I resolved our issues by letting you go

I had to wear the pants in our relationship because you wouldn’t
And I was never one to allow stupidity to hang its hat by the door.

Now I miss you and I don’t know why.
You never bought me sunflowers.
You never let me cry.

Forgotten Leftovers

why would anyone need me, ever,
even on a whim

they disregard me for someone else,
thrown by the wayside like

a mattress left on the freeway
a set of hot curlers

they don’t need me; they’ll find someone else
they always do

i don’t tend to leave lasting impressions
and i’ve decided to run first this time

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