Lucky for you I’ve stopped
NS March 1st, 2008
I found an old journal of mine the other day, filled with poems written during my senior year of high school. The cover of the journal, which is red and blue and brown in a Southwestern design, was put on backwards and upside down so that what looks like the front is actually the back, wrong side up. I thought that was so symbolic at the time.
My parents gave me a new journal for Christmas every year because they knew I filled them up quite quickly and was always looking to replenish my stock. Inside the front cover, I always printed my name and the date I began writing in it. This one says I started it on Christmas Day 1996. In the interests of comedy and nostalgia, I’m reprinting a few of the poems I found inside, ones I haven’t read for many years. Enjoy (or not)! Oh, and sorry for the double spacing throughout, it’s my template and I couldn’t be bothered to change it for this one post. I’m lazy like that.
Birthday Boy
My darling little boy
is dressed in birthday blues
Such a brave little solder
what am I to do
It’s killing me to see the pain
bleeding from his eyes
This blow was not expected
he’s bound to ask me why
Little Susan came
with pushing from her mother
She’s sitting solemnly
while he waits for all the others
The beautiful cake I made
sits next to Susie’s card
The candles melting down
near the door where he stands guard
He wants to check the invitation
maybe they were wrong
He’s pulling on my skirt
asking what’s taking them so long
I smile through my tears
and pat his innocent head
Oh god, give me his suffering
give it to me instead
The party games lay still
he knocks them to the floor
A mother’s realization
I can’t protect him anymore
Susan starts to cry
and asks if she can go back home
My little boy in blue
is now oh-so all alone
His once vibrant face
has aged in this one day
His birthday expectations
have all been thrown away
As he trudges up the stairs
his head hung like a fool
I torment in his grief –
kids can be so cruel
Little Town
In a little town
that is run by Mayor Brown
Where the roads are still not paved
and the Amish still don’t shave
Where they’re blowing manhole covers
and Pop and Sis are lovers
There’s a little laid-back place
that discriminates by race
In the back there’s yellow beet
and a stack of dirty sheets
Round the corner is a house
that’s as quiet as a mouse
All the white men beat their wives
sly as cats who have nine lives
The Chinese couple opened shop
Sis works there when not with Pop
The Hispanics in the slums
quote Macbeth and chew their gum
There’s an all-night Uzi store
where they’ve tired of keeping score
In the single county car
Sheriff Herschel rubs his scar
Sneaks in safely to his home
and idolizes Al Capone
In the forest late at night
by a fire draped in white
All the women of the town
take turns beating Mayor Brown
Floating On By
Just one moment
maybe in Tahiti
No x’s and o’s
at the end of the letter
Two sundeck chairs
and a life that is better
Two fortune cookies
that we throw to the sea
Sippin’ cider through a straw
and tanning our feet
Those precious little moments
when we fall from a laugh
Into each other’s arms
and a pink bubble bath
I could live in your eyes
and never have to explain
By a fire in Mexico
toasting love with champagne
Filling my soul
with the sweet smell of you
On warm autumn days
under a sky carved from blue
From cinnamon trees
we dangle and grin
Tickled by grass
on elbows and chins
As we run alongside
the rusty sunset
We’re fearless of waves
not afraid to get wet
Amen hallelujah
little angels float by
Washing up on our shore
where they learn how to fly
Cupping our hands
we blow them a kiss
And make up for time
we’ve desperately missed
