when i was 21
What I Did Over My Summer Vacation
Sometimes,
we would sit on the front stoop
and drink cheap beer,
discuss Jeff’s scar
and how it turns a darker red
with each beer.
And sometimes,
we would sit on the ledge
blowing bubbles
at the pedestrians
waiting for the looks on their faces.
And sometimes,
I would sit on the couch
and wait for the buses to drive by
wait for the way the building shakes
there’s something about that.
And sometimes
I would just stand on the sidewalk
right near the spot
where someone wrote BUDDHA
and I would let my feet
just feel
the pulse that courses thru the pavement
the hum from the cars and people
the stench from the incinerator
that I’ve finally gotten used to
and it would make me feel so alive
that I was close to crying
and I would thank my stars
the lucky and unlucky ones
that I made this move out of suburbia
because grass doesn’t know how to feel like that
it’s too soft
it absorbs the shock of the world
the white picket fences
keep life at bay
and nothing ever touches you
the pavement
the asphalt
passes it straight into your bones
and once it’s hit
you never want to lose it.
Pavement can be addictive
I swear to you it can.
And sometimes
I napped in the afternoon
the sirens and yelling people
lullabied me to sleep
as a thin layer of sweat
covered me in its
almost uncomfortable warmth
and I felt happy with my lot.
------------------------------------
Renee says today is a day for apricots
she wants to go to a wedding
and sit in the sunshine.
She tells me that certain people remind her
of warm apple sauce,
homemade with cinnamon.
Then she apologizes for being so strange.
I want to buy her apricots
and help her crash the nearest wedding.
We could go in our overalls,
sweaty hair,
and bleach scented hands.
Sometimes when i go through my old documents it makes me squirm with embarrassment and sometimes i feel okay. that first one isn't even very good, but it takes me to a really happy moment in my life and for that it has value