"It's too late for me, you can still make your dreams come true!" is possibly the most selfish thing you could say, A POEM FOR MY FATHER
It must be you, 1972
at this all-night diner way down york road,
you're all over the place,
with the mirrory walls and ceiling, i mean
omnipresent,
(i'm used to this.)
your wide gesticulating hands
bounce blurry across the walls
through the windows
into oncoming traffic,
pink and teal neon illume the edges
of your jewfro
like you're the crusty co-ed jesus
of some anachronistic icon art,
and who can miss the life force emitting your cranium
into the night?
god,
isn't it great to be young and brilliant?
and writing revolutionary shit on napkins
at a corner booth
with a fat friend,
some french fries, and
some wittgenstien.
you play ping-pong and smoke pot
with your professors,
the campus cool kids all know your name.
and nobody wrapped up in tweed and
metaphysics ever talks about
the ontological entanglements
of 20odd years of dinner on the table.
they just say sure
ed's got the world ahead
and if any waitress in a black hood
with your fifth mug of coffee, and a scythe
came up to your table and said,
this is it,
it's never ever
going to get better any than this.
you know you wouldn't believe her.
Comments
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I really enjoyed reading this ... a little confused on some parts but nonetheless I thought it was pretty interesting. It kept my attention (always a good thing). I should say the poem is different and descriptive but instead I think I'll go with intricate. Yet I find this easy to read and follow, its one theme seems to branch into many stories behind the whole idea of the piece. Maybe it's me but I feel like I'm there and I know so much about the surroundings and what is happening. I felt kind of annoyed at the end - with the character. Stubborn yet right. Confident perhaps but it doesn't show. It seems kind of sad, the mood. The atmosphere lingers in this diner that makes me nose tingle because it takes me to all the diners I've ever been to and some are not so pretty. They always seem so dull coloured and grim. Or maybe that is just the pessimist in me. I'm not making any sense anymore. But I liked it and it opened well. It catches the eye and keeps the mind.
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