I remember standing there,
leaning by a shirtless man
holding spanners and a beer,
near crankshaft shadows
twisting and crawling in the sun.
Watched a young kid’s arm
argue with the starter rope
of a broken old gas mower.
No spark, no grass to cut,
just a boy in need of sweat.
Used water pump: ten bucks.
Even saved the old gasket.
Sunburned half my white ass
cursing the part into place.
Finished just in time to toast
the sunset on my lovely lawn.
April, 2013
I’d bind these shattered, scattered pieces with
ribbons from a maypole–or memories of maypoles,
which we never really had, which instead of we had
a deflated leather ball that no one really liked,
and swung from a chain, rebounding off our fists.
Our red fists: at the bell they had rebounded from
the old black chalkboard and Big Chief tablets,
from endless long divisions, which we deserted like
a mob of happy crows. That seems so long ago,
and so much simpler than this division of memories:
our promises sparked red, faith pulsing in each kiss,
all our knotted fears unwound beneath the moon’s caress;
unwound like ribbons loosed to end a maypole dance,
which we no longer dance because all we have left
are deflated leather souls and flailing, angry hands.
Big Chief tablets wait blank on ink-stained desks,
and the chalkboard asks what we don’t want told.
The bell is ringing, calling us in from recess.
August 2012 (revised Jan. 2013)
When you look back on your life, do you wonder if you were different persons during successive life passages? While recalling your addled adolescence, can you recite your name without feeling surprised at how ill fitted it is to your history? Are sepia-toned memories all you keep of learning to ride a bike, understanding fractions, arguments with your parents, your first kiss? Does your present feel as far removed from your past as it once was from your future? Have you left behind a light, immortal avatar of yourself perched on a thin branch at the top of a tall tree?
Thendays i breathed from the treetop
swinging deaf to gravity and
singing slights to minor keys
i cared not what i couldn’t do
and didn’t know how to stop.
June 2012
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