A Poem, A Short
04/01/2009 § Leave a comment
I don’t normally share stuff like this but after viewing some other writing blogs I’m thinking now I’ll throw some stuff out there. Here’s some of my creative work:
The wheels all scream into the station and we stop.
Outside the window, the spring rain sheets down.
I see two elderly figures, the bright yellow and shooting magenta
Of their umbrellas, the khaki shorts and tall white socks
Of the man. The pink-flowered electric-blue dress of the woman.
Their arms link them together.
Their white hair messed by wind, rain.
Their small steps careful, small, quick.
The raindrops rivering their way down
the window, and the rain falling
outside gives them an aura, diffusion of something
powerful, elegant, bewitching,
not just colors vibrating… but life.
Maybe it’s me. Maybe I see us.
Luck permitting, you will still be around
When my body tires and this heart must work harder.
Maybe our desire to make it together,
Together one foot in front of the other, carefully, step step,
step step to wherever will
slow down the tiring, the usurpation of time over our knightly
shining youth, slow the
close to the end of the alphabet W Weakening,
the two of us… waning moons.
You and I will be bright, we’ll be bitter, we’ll take
note of all the loss in our lives, in the world.
We will have talent at giving warnings. At talking when talking is
never more appropriate.
Our golden crowns will tumble off and roll into rush hour traffic.
Twenty-somethings on their way home will see and empathetically apologize.
We’ll take our antacids, our arthritis medication.
We’ll see what we can see through our bifocals.
We’ll wave our red and yellow unfolded umbrellas hello!
at playing children in the street
During our walk for the train that will take us away.
Untitled Short Short… Needs polishing:
The orange lines at the center of the road curve ahead to the right and disappear over a small hill where further on at the bottom, where we will arrive in 15 or so seconds, we will be shaded by a thin canopy of leafy trees. We may start to talk as we enter here. You drive faster than usual, and of course I know why; release. Pleasing aesthetics have always helped you talk. You know this too and this is why you asked me to come with you. I am proud to be your confidant! The leaves throw ten thousand spots of sun on your side of the car, beautiful. As I predicted, you begin talking but pause when I am hit with direct blinding light in the face; I wince and turn away. You smile, I smile, but it fades. You mention that an end of a relationship is seen early on. On a day that is sunny and hot like this one has been. Where you and her pointed at advertisements and laughed, and in the grocery store were closer than you normally would be in a grocery store. There, next to the bread, you got a sign. In that moment of safety, of shared criticism of a marketing campaign, the giggles at the inappropriate unintended pun of a slogan, your hands met and touches hit… expressions of flirtation were seen by mothers with daughters and lonely men picking fruit. Flirtation passed back and forth until she realized what people were looking at, She immediately turned it off. “Sorry, No.”
Lesbians can’t flirt in this town, especially while straight middle-aged people are squinting at unit prices or trying to make out an expiration date. You allowed her to calm down, ease out and feel comfortable. She was not as open with her sexuality as you have been. We all know that! But it should have been more of a deal to you right? You brushed it off softly, maybe to help convince yourself it was small change, the pennies and nickels people leave dropped for the homeless on the ground. We discuss your soft compromise and you understand and agree. So, we sit and wonder, looking at the allowances we all make in the beginning. We see something that doesn’t fit… but how unlucky we are when we find out it is the thing that we needed to make fit. But, people don’t wish to be with someone exactly like them, that would be boring, narcissistic. Opposites attract. How can we tell? I reply that I don’t know but I have a feeling that it has to do with timing. There could be a time this issue amounts to squat. Now, it’s an obstacle. You don’t say much else; you are done talking for now. You haven’t cried that I have known of since last week and I begin to think about sadness and crying during the droning of the road at the wheels, the run of the engine. Why at times is it so hard? As if emotion in the well of the chest must climb all the way up, push at the throat and get up under our eyes. How much easier if we cried with our hands! At this thought I reached down and placed my hand on yours on the shifter and kept it there.
We moved through the trees and out to the curves around Lake George. Our hands together on the shifter were awkward with all the downshifting, upshifting, but it provided a challenge! Albeit a silly one! When we came to the long hill we had to stop. Our hands immediately shot up to flip down our sun shades. God, what an awful angle to be driving on, straight into the sun. We pulled over to a small shoulder about a quarter way up and got out to watch the sun hit everything we had just passed.
“You’re probably right about timing,” you say as we lean onto the hatchback. “Maybe it will take a year or two for her to come out completely, she’s stubborn.”
“Egh, I dunno.” I say. “Probably less time than it will take me to become a lesbian.”
“Yes, you’re a straight man.” You paused and turned toward me. “You’re not in love with me are you?”
“No. I don’t think so.” I say. “I just have been waiting, myself. Quite a while, then I meet a cool person and she’s gay.”
“Yep. But don’t worry hun, if I can’t land a decent girl I may reconsider men.”
“I doubt that. Despite our pieces fitting together… they don’t really fit together.”
“Maybe you should get with her for the time being so when she finally realizes she’s into women for good, she’ll be close by? You’re a man, getting laid helps, right?”
“Yeah… It’s a good plan.”
We stayed silent for a few minutes as the sun set. The sky turned all sorts of colors that I still remember, that I’ve tried to paint, and that, I hear, appear in sunsets out west.
“Time can be such a cruel bitch, from time to time, hah, but at least she gives us something. This is gorgeous.”
“How about starting that drive back,” I say after a moment. “I’m sure we’ll do this again.”
“And I’m sure at least half of the time it won’t be so bad.”