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So strands of my hair fall into
Into a soda pop can in
A room full of people
Distracting themselves with collapse.
One guy nurses apocalypse
On his chest like others
Would a paperback,
Or a choco Danish.
But the bell ringer is the woman
In the floor length gown, and flip flops.
No matter of my concern.
Body to dress, light to tunnel.
Here we are rumbling through
Depreciated minds.
Our teeth bared from boredom,
Wagons before the fire.
And with us, the magnanimous browser
Of rose tattoo sketches
Permanently clawing down to her
Ankles for none to know.
The fluorescent beam above
Exposing too chewed nails
Gathered nervously around tables where
Coffee and donuts long have ruled.
I swish in her cottony stamp
Of inaccessibility while peacock-y men
Strain to achieve temperance
And leave their eyes socket bound.
No one can complain about it.
She wears this dress the way
Good singers curve their tunes.
But to me, reason is an empty stomach.
Hank Cherry and the written word. I’m glad they found each other, what a couple.
It happened my years ago. Written word was standing at a bar and I drummed up the nerve to by her a pink lady.
Many years ago, and buy her a drink….
I feel like a smarter and more interesting person after reading one of your works. Love this!
Someday we will all be smarter. I think. Or maybe we’ll be dumber, but think otherwise. Either way is fine by me. Thanks for reading Becky!
A good one, no doubt.
Like a Dr. Pepper?
Body to dress, light to tunnel.
Well said. Love this one.
This thing just came out over the keyboard, like a splurt. In a dream of denial I sent it in an hour after writing it. A few hours later it was accepted. That will likely never happen again, like a hole in one in golf, just luck of the draw. But I remember being stuck, at one point, and then body to dress light to tunnel came. Essentially a comment on lust, it explains something more than that, a tendency of humans to see symbols in everything, and then get lost in the deconstruction of said symbology, when all it is is simple beauty. Thanks for your comment!
There’s something so unique about poems that arrive this way. Simple beauty. There was such nuance to this poem, it engaged a lot of personal imagery for me, without arousing the inclination to analyze my perceptions against your intentions. It’s pure.
Thank you. I’m flattered.
Right-on, Hank. This one is hitting on all cylinders. I’d love to hear you read this.
I’m going to call you in fifteen minutes from whenever you see this comment and read this very loudly!
“the way/good singers curve their tunes.”
That’s a good line.
Yeah, that one felt good. I wasn’t listening to music at the time, but thinking of Aretha and Otis, and James Carr, in relation to the whole gown and flip flop conundrum. Thank you for noticing that line, Shelley!
I’m tragically under-skilled in commenting on poetry, but I love the images in this, and also wanted to let you know I read. Also, this is the second time this week that I’ve run into the word magnanimous – last week I woke up with it repeating in my head. Couldn’t shake it.
Gloria, yup, that’s a good an M word as there is. I lucked into this poem, all signs pointed away from it, but it happened anyway…. Thanks for coming by and Saying howdy!
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