Friday, April 26, 2019


In honor of National Poetry Month, I have posted work by myself each Friday; for this final Friday, here is "Orange," a piece from a recent series of color poems.


Because we were in high school and he was a friend of a friend,

Because his name was Martin and he was a drummer in a punk band and drove a beat up orange 1971 Ford Bronco that belonged to his dad since it was the only car they had that was large enough to fit his drum kit,

Because I invited him to my house that night when the harvest moon was full and orange, and the evening was still warm from the sweltering day,

Because he was nervous, smiling, darting eyes, in a ripped tee shirt and leather jacket, with a new buzz cut he wanted me to see,

Because Ray Bradbury’s book THE MARTIAN CHRONICLES had just been made into a television miniseries and because there was a free-from stucco apartment complex nearby that looked like the set of the film,

Because I suggested we take a walk there among the orange glow of the bug lights at every front door that made the open air walkways seem alien,

Because I started to sing—teasing at first but then softly-- “Are you lonesome tonight?” by Elvis Presley and because Pete Farndon from The Pretenders had Elvis hair and a leather jacket,

Because he let me touch his hand, his arm, his neck while he held his breath,

Because I could feel his heart beating and he didn’t say anything,

Because his eyes showed me he wanted to but he couldn’t bring himself to do it,

Because we got back to my house and he said, “Well, I gotta go, bye,” his eyes confused, reluctant, already departing,

Because we could have, should have kissed that night and because we saw each other many times after with friends but never had that chance again,

And for no other reason.


No comments: