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Click hereShe Sounded Younger on the Phone
flitted pleasantries we plan
a PTA drop off
old town near southwestern
university to maple
14 to 13
zoom in google map
soon she is right there
apartments over the privacy fence
hey I could lean out my window and yell
babysitters and playdates
train tracks and feral cats
we spin flirtation on common dust
Do you have animals?
Just a dog.
No, like a wild animal or something
that makes a strange noise.
Oh.
That.
That is my son.
Ummm.
Yeah.
He makes strange noises.
I laugh make light of trampoline screech
and dirt-juggle holler
swing-set hooots
whoops and shriek of
"something not right" cries
(no not a normal cry more like
like an animal yes)
sometimes
(sorry)
sometimes I
I I can't bring myself
to quiet him
hide behind screens
choose release
(she sounded prettier on the phone)
no coffee no playdate
no first friday stroll
just us wild animals
picking pecan shells
flicking them at the fence
spinning face up till even when we fall
big big sky keeps on turning
round us all
...
Survivor poem:
Free choice, trigger 41: Back Yard
.......did my previous comment go? I found this late and it wowed me. Who ever or what ever is removing comments - STOPPIT please.
For me it's a special skill to interweave dialogue into a poem. I really enjoyed its tempo from start to finish.
I hope I'm correct in the irony of the title, suggesting she's really an old sourpuss. If I'm wrong, please don't correct me. The image I have of her is just too much fun when compared to you and your son.
I loved this poem, its unique and honest subject matter and the way it was written. Kudo.