Evacuate the rap of flip, zip, I’m-so-hip one-liners.
Empty telephone wires
that never connect.
Rattle, zero prattle
Slappy, dappy madness—
Cell phones instead of ears
Replace being awake.
Let me have a break and back
Off, Jack. Eat the clichés
That say stop and desist.
Give it up. Enough.
Let me breathe
You deep into my brain.
See you laughing at 9 am on a Sunday.
Watch you pull apart a cinnamon bun.
Licking sticky fingers
Dipping fried bananas into huckleberry jam
as you tell me a long story
of motorcycle rides through Lolo pass.
5 comments:
Love it! It takes me immediately to the back of Lyle's motorcycle when I first came to Moscow. On the way through Lolo pass, he started jumping around (really dangerous!) and there was no place to pull over safely. I only found out later that a wasp had flown inside his shirt and was stinging him repeatedly. (How many lifetimes ago that was! We're talking hiphugger bell bottoms and halter top made out of blue bandanas) By the way, how many other motorcycle rides through Lolo pass stories are there? I'd like to hear them all, preferably while camping at Riverside.
Beautiful, as always. I don't know why you always say you are better at prose. You're poetry is so simple and clean. I love it. It's your turn to save something for your book.
I also loved your commentary on today's communication styles. No one has time to sit next to a river and talk, eat, and laugh together. They are all too busy keeping up with each other on Facebook. It's a scary epidemic. I wonder how this will effect writing in the next generation? I guess you'll be one of the first to see.
This is wonderful, Mom! I love this... I was right there with you.
Meg
I really liked the rhythm of this poem. It took me by surprise. I felt like I was riding on the back of a motorcycle and whoever was driving was stopping fast and then speeding up when I least expected it.
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