The women in your fantasies float.
I don't even think they have feet.
And whoa, you thought life was like sidewalk,
perilous cracks you could avoid like a nervous child,
but life sprouted like weeds between those slabs
and now you're minding roots caked in cement,
in plaid shirts you would have laughed at 5 years ago
and in sweat born on each cheek that meets at your chin,
a rendezvous that makes your face twitch and squirm,
waiting for the drip.
and you curse your dirty gloves.
and the hot damn sun, that's slapping your back
and the cold damn air, that's making your breath show.
the streetlight bounces like it's humming a tune
in our car, we're humming a tune,
the sky is huge and blue
and we've covered miles and miles without a hitch or crack,
yeah, we've been zooming all day, save for small stops,
just like yours, here.
and now we've got the green light, so we're off.
Author notes
i passed this guy raking leaves on the side of the road.
Written October 16th, 2006
In a list
What did you think
Comments
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hahah Oh man. Your author's comment totally and completely makes this poem. You are a poet among poets, Julie, a person among all those squirming along under our shoes throwing money at our noses. Um hm. Just like that.
I adore you. -
"but life was a concrete canyon,
and now you've seen the riverbed"
--love the description.
"and in sweat born on each cheek that meets at your chin,
a rendezvous that makes your face twitch and squirm,
waiting for the drip."
--also here, I can see it. It's actually kind of simple but it's written well and delivered well. No unnecessary lines - just what it was. Good job.
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