XI

More things from Creative Writing! (Half a year later.)

XI

132 months, and a new pair

of purple Chuck Taylors--two knots in my hair,

three scabs on my knees, eight wheels barreling down

your street. When my roof still overlooked the town

and at night, we’d number the streetlamps, or cars,

each peach hue or waxed exterior a bard

whose song carried us through summer, who swept us

away from the shouts below (sometimes a cuss):

our fathers damning the Dodgers with half-lit

cigars balanced on their lips, the TV kit

shaking as they bellowed before the blue light.

4017 days: five cents instead

of cake, a baseball cap to adorn my head,

six playing cards abandoned on the staircase

after I lost to you in poker. Your face

under the dying bulb on my porch, shortly

before kissing me--we both thought it funny

how Orange County never changed, it seemed; how

the only thing my mom discussed was the Dow.

Your back door was always open, and the sway

of the hinges sang me to sleep when I prayed,

thanking God for my eleventh year that night.

Author's Note

The only poem of mine that isn't absolute crap.
I guess I just like this one because of how much time I spent ensuring that there were 11 lines in each stanza, that they indirectly rhymed, and that each line was 11 syllables.

Lawl.

Reviews

[emipoemi]

I have no words.....my voice is in my awe! Well done!

[Jason Kozlowski]

I love this poem! You are very descriptive and I LOVE that about this! You did a great job and I can feel and see what you describe! I'm going to look for more poems of yours! If you have the time could you check out my poem?

[J Johnson III]

That is awesome! Really enjoyed reading it. I am glad you pointed out the counts in your note. It made it even better. Awesome job!