THAT SUMMER.

A GIRL AND HER MOTHER AND THE MEN SUMMER 1967.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You bummed a smoke
From a packet
In your mother’s
Coat, the yellow

 

One, the one she
Wore out when she
Was dating those
Creeps and when she

 

Brought them home as
She often did
(Where else could she
Go with them?) She’d

 

Leave the perfume
Stinking yellow
Coat hanging there
Behind the door

 

And there you’d find
All kinds of stuff
From tampons to
Cigarettes and

 

Other unknown 
Unsavoury
Things you threw in
The garbage can,

 

Then off you’d go
With the smoke and
Puff in some dark
Corner or out

 

In the fields far
Away from the
House and her and
Her men and the

 

Creeps who crept up
To the john and
Peeked in your room
To see if you

 

Were undressing
But you knew their
Game and slammed the
Door in their crazed

 

Faces and laughed
To hear their wet
Whimpers as they
Crept off again

 

Like wounded wimps
In that summer’s
Unsavoury
Long drawn out game.

Reviews

[just rose.]

Really well done, as if the adult qualities assumed by the smoking imparts to the young narrator a kind of wisdom beyond her years. I am interested in the fascinating/repellent qualities of the mother as expressed in the yellow coat: the girl is repulsed and attracted to it at the same time. Quite an interesting think inspired by this one. My favorite part is the question in parentheses: the resignation and inevitability of it all.

[Coyote Poetry]

The days of youth and search for the beautiful woman. The poem brought back good days of youth. Photo was amazing and made the words come alive. Some moment are frozen in our minds. A outstanding poem. Thank you.
Coyote

[Jessica Mai]

I like the storyline since its different and the flow goes really well with it. Good write.