New Poems
So I’ve spent my summer writing things like this. I’m pretty proud of them.
Afterthoughts of a Perfect Five Minutes
For A. Parks
Cold, brisk night
No clouds overhead
I see your breath as we step out of the hotel into
Five inches of packed snow
You smile;
It makes me smile
The small, frozen pond never looked so romantic
Your fuzzy grey coat and beanie,
My brown snowboarding jacket with faux fur
Pull them selves together
They are merely magnets connecting
You and me
Pulling us closer
Embracing each other
I kiss your forehead through your exposed
Blonde hair
You look at me with deep turquoise eyes
Leaning closer I bend down
To meet your soft lips
With mine
There is nothing sweeter
Than the subtle taste of lip gloss
After a perfect first kiss
Smiling, you rest your head
Onto my chest
Satisfied is just one emotion you must be feeling
I know it’s not the only one I have
Brewing inside me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the Car Wash
I vacuumed a bug today
Not caring what he felt
It must be traumatic to see
A long, red portal with a reverse wind sucking you in
When all you did was find a place to rest
I vacuumed a bug today
More out of instinct then pleasure
Did it hurt?
Flying through the long tube to the sack at the end
Where hair and dirt and crumbs and accidental pennies accumulate?
I vacuumed a bug today
Then continued my business
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Beats and Rhythm
My heart swells with it
My blood pumps with it
My nerves tingle with it
My foot taps lightly with it
This is rhythm
I sit on my throne
Pick up my two mighty staffs
Place one in each hand
And bang the rhythm out of the drum
These are beats
Single crash
Double paradiddle
Triplet quarter notes
I pound it out with my royal scepters
As I sit upon my throne
My head bobs
My body moves
The feeling sweeps under me
And takes me away
To musical nirvana
This is my beat
This is my rhythm
It is defined by nobody except me
These are my beats
These are my rhythms
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Boxcar
Walking towards it
I feel an uncomfortable pain in my stomach
Like someone just socked me there.
The scenes I witnessed from five minutes ago
Still linger, but are nothing when compared against the experience of the small boxcar
In the middle of a memorial that is dedicated to those lost under Hitler’s anti-Semitic ways,
I walk towards the death trap.
A small, dark-red box with tinged metal wheels sits upon the tracks laid especially for it.
Both side doors are open, one is an entrance, the other an exit.
My small steps bring me closer to it.
The first step
A wall of fragrance hits my nostrils
It’s stale, bitter, harsh
I think of what it could be
Within five seconds, I realize that this new smell must be
Death
A second step
Revealing a chilling sensation that runs down my spine and makes my neck twinge
An aura of suffering travels through my body
A sense of pain lingers
This is where the innocent first found something wasn’t right
This is where the ill and fragile first died.
Looking to the right
All lights have ceased
Except for one light that shines through the narrow slit they called a window
Bright, white, and non-illuminating,
Leaving a beam that makes a small rectangle on the ground
It shows the dust that still travels within the car
Looking to the left
A sign
Probably explaining the history of this giant trap
I didn’t stay to find out
Exiting
A relief rushes through my body
As a weight seems to be lifted.
I look back
The creepy chills come back
Not as heavy as the first time, but still present
And it lingers as I stumble through the rest of my day
