Friday, April 22, 2016

poem of the day 04.22.16

when doves cry

i had
buddha beat
before puberty
i knew that all life was suffering
at the age of twelve
the kids at school helped
me with my understanding
and i knew
that i’d turned into a fat blob
didn’t want serena reno to see me like that
and i couldn’t have given a damn
that her family had flown to pittsburgh
from california
had driven fifty miles from relatives too
for this reunion
no, i was content to sit in my room
pissing away the day
playing my prince cassette over and over
as the sounds of two families blending
came from below
it was better for me
like a fat monster hidden in the attic
not to sully the beauty of the summer afternoon
but sit in the middle of the bed
an obese quasimodo
with the mattress bent boomerang from my mass
but oh
my mother couldn’t let it go
and as i sat there huffing through dizzy gillespie jowls
she knocked on the door
opened it without my consent
and there stood serena reno behind her
california blonde and beautiful
nearly thirteen
she came in and sat soundlessly next to me
how long had it been?
too long
she wouldn’t even look at me
even after my mother closed the door
we just sat there
listening to prince play fantastic
wordless children
golden beach beauty and her tubby beast
but what was there to say?
california talk
pittsburgh talk
it was all such nonsense
let’s just let purple rain speak for us
and we were saved our little reunion
by another knock on the door
my friend
fit and young
already thirteen with a peach fuzz mustache
backward hat
checkerboard vans
and his ubiquitous basketball
he and serena hit it off like fire
like magic
like cosmos colliding in the mix of paisley guitars
talking their rapid talk of youth
as i crawled into myself
crawled further along the bed
trying desperately to sink into oblivion
their laughter was such torture
why not pull out my nails?
i rose
only to change sides on the fading tape
the bed moving like tectonic plates
mitchell and serena
already up and at the door
passing the basketball back and forth
their feet down the steps
like tap dancers in love
i let the music start
but turned it down low
sat back down on the bed and waited
for the sounds of their revelry and abandon
to come echoing up to my room
the beat of the basketball
as it went
on the pavement
around this stone oubliette
that i’d trapped any and all joy for myself
deep within.                                                                            

1 comment:

Charlotte said...

So. Good.
He would have liked it.