you can figure it out
if you were in the sixties
pedaling that three-greasy geared
boy’s bike down pretend pavement
of dry clay roads until
gravel tucked itself up under my knees
because of that fricken pothole
that dumped me on skirted belly
but then, you are not boys, now, are you?
do I need to gear down my red Passat
Lob-mobile and leave you in my dust
again?
god, but you were all such
under the swing,
up in the tree, over the outhouse
lechers in your light-faced youth
leering through sickly left-over
paint Old Man Skipworth,
the jaw and justice janitor,
sluiced over the girls’ dressingroom
windows and that you paid Claudia
to scratch peek holes in
we knew you were there
and only showed you what we wanted to
I saw you this summer, gray tie-dye hair
bleeding into your droopy eyelids
as you jumped into your re-done’57 Chevy
with stupid Mexican bobbles bobbling
on the dash window like little balls
and I still thought you gritty
with purple sex lights ghosting your has-been heads.
In a list
A contest entry
- Better Than My Stuff by just rob.
1400 points, ended January 19, 2007, 45 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Better than me 2 by just rob.
1500 points, ended February 5, 2007, 7 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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I like the original tone of voice and style in this poem a lot. I have been reading these entries all morning, good lord, and this one jumps out to the top of the stack has having both truth and originality! Bravo!
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Thank you, Zayra. Thsi is another one of those moments of anecdotal acid...but sweet acid, tart like good mouth candy.
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I ain't evennnnnnnnn gonna touch THAT one...
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Hey, I resemble those remarks....at 50!
Some of us knew you knew, remember the one who kissed you shyly, after you beat him arm wrestlig at twelve.
we knew you were there
and only showed you what we wanted to
So much here. Should be required reading for polititions and lawyers.
I was the one who found scabby knees...sexy.
And I'm still gritty, thank you.
What a wonerful romp. Thanks for the ride.
Peace
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ah, hah, the truth is out...but you are still such a charming little back seat cushion. LOL
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lmao "charming little back seat cushion"...I choked on my soda...Can I borrow that one, should I ever get the chance to use it again??? hehehe 
Classic stuff, Lady...
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oh, he gunna hurt me for that one........ Oh, to be sure....I would be honored...wait..you wanna borrow the line or the cushion?
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Ummm...BOTH would fit nicely, methinks. Hurt you??? Hardly. Hell no, Lady...It'll make 'im blush from his toes to his nose...
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Slam Dunk!
That's tellin um Baby! This is an "I got your number write",for sure.My favorite potent lines; god, but you were all such
under the swing,
up in the tree, over the outhouse
lechers in your light-faced youth.
Some people just get stymied and can't grow up.Sad,is'nt it though.~~Suseann
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well, at least I have grown up to know what not to wear when I am pumping the swings...lol... my choice.
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"but then, you are not boys, now, are you?" Sez who??? I've known a few grayhaired ones that still qualified as such...Grand penning, scathing in its depths...We had a '56 Chevy, with the original red & white interior...Sighhh...They don't make heavy metal like they used to...& boys have changed a bit, as well...I've known a few I'd put the brakes on for...& others, I'd punch the accelerator to get the Hell outta Dodge where they roamed...Good luck in the contest...
Wanda
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i have had few ims from some of those frog tucking guys...dang em...LOL..one who shall remain unnamed and the others...ok, I won't name any of them....we know them by their smirk....lol...yes, but of curse, I'd have braked for these ones...had I known they woldn't pelt me with gravel.
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I absolutely detest smirking fools. Makes me wanna wipe it offa their face...preferably with sandpaper or somethin'...
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Now see! I knew you hailed from Kansas Wander. But never dusty Dodge.Ha!
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Nope; not Dodge - McPherson. But yeahhh, I've been through Dodge City & have seen dusty ol' Boot Hill.
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