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Move-Out Day
Contributed by
drapes
on
Monday, 15th December 2014 @ 08:50:11 PM in AEST
Topic:
goodbyepoetry
|
Through voices screaming Boys of Summer
We share the grin
Of the puppet master.
The porch is throbbing,
Your shirts unbuttoned
And theres slurred conversations
In German and Russian
So the puppets cant pick up on
Condescending implications.
With Makers Mark in hand
And vodka on the breath
We escape for midnight walks,
Avoiding loneliness,
With a vague plan
To extend
The dizzy madness
Into sunrise talks.
Wide-eyed girls hear voices
Through the walls
And make choices that involve
You and that false sense of
Stability you deliver
During nights you dont remember.
I stare at your protein shake,
Smirking in a silence
That the kids mistake
For an awkward encounter.
But Im stifling my laughter,
Which is tough to master
With your gleaming eyes
Tracing my figure
Against the kitchen counter.
I remember when that glimmer
In your smile ran shallow
The day you discovered
Your best friends not a hero.
Spinning walls and blurry shapes.
Drunken strength.
Mindless body.
But all things considered,
You could have said no for me.
Sure, Ill help you pack your v-necks
Into garbage bags
Next to modest price tags
On the polos your mom selected
Before your girlfriends expected
To come out.
If she asks about your night
At least theres nothing to lie about
This time around.
Fingers dance on wooden keys
Through the floorboards.
The sound of that E-chord
Isnt going to leave
Your bones
When youre on the road
To European cities.
But it will be easier there
Than staring at the bare
Front curb, out of place
Without a sleek black car
And Ohio plate.
I could have put the bottle down
The night we sang Wagon Wheel
But the excitement was too surreal
For a clear mind to comprehend.
So we carry on drinking to feel
Until move-out day
A stone sober end
To the puppet brigade.
Thick air. Matted hair
To foreheads creased with thought,
Piecing together the weeks we forgot.
You look so good
Shirtless and distraught
In a room lined with pain,
Breathing in sequence
With the rhythm of the summer rain.
On the staircase
Where the first look was exchanged
Is where our fading impulses hang.
Through voices screaming Boys of Summer
We share the grin
Of the puppet master.
Knotted string nests tangled hearts
That crave to be resolved.
With dirty hands
And solemn pride
We take a bow, the curtain falls.
10.16.14
Copyright ©
drapes
... [
2014-12-15 20:50:11]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Move-Out Day
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Tuesday, 16th December 2014 @ 03:48:13 AM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
| Can't say that I'm 100% in tune with your poem , as it is so personal, but it reads so well. Yes, the farewell is obvious, and the memories too. Especially the first exchange on the staircase. That strikes a LOUD chord for me. It almost reads like it is screaming out for a melody. Somehow Dylanesque. Was impressed enough to read and come back for more, and I'll be back again. |
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