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The way home
| Corner Pub #3 |
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The way home |
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trebuchet Junior Member
since 2007-01-12
Posts 30 |
It's as if I am visiting after being away far too long. I had almost forgotten the feeling of damp air on skin, the sickly sweet smell of garbage and bums in the alleys of downtown, and the way spring doesn't come until June -- buds bursting into colorful crowns yesterday nonexistant in the green, now grinning and bobbing outside my window. I had almost forgotten the contradiction of this place: How it buzzes, steel and glass planted in wetland; The reflections in tall, mirrored buildings of slender trees tacking down squares of earth along gritty streets; The reflections in wide, windowed buildings of two people in one trenchcoat beneath a yellow bus sign, kissing; The reflections in geometric wonders of buildings: reverse images of brick buildings and black buildings and of building itself. I'd let the pierced blonde woman slip my mind: glittering tragically in anger and rebellion with her carefully dirty hair, lounging always outside the coffee shop with newsprint-blackened fingers framed by the fog of a hot-tipped cigarette. I had almost forgotten the noise: The pregnant silence just before a strong-armed man in rainboots throws his head back, hands outstretched in an embrace with thick air and belts "Fish! FII-IISH!" in a gravely bass that makes me want to join him in my own triumphant release; And the cacaphony of buses, taxis and horse-drawn carts jockying for position along First Avenue, all hissing, honking and clopping. And I am lucky to have been moved to remember how in a day amongst the raincoats and streetlights and brick buildings and buses it's possible to exist solely on this energy and be satiated, somehow. II. Bumper to bumper, we creep through the arteries of this city together. Bonding in bored glances from lane to lane, we flirt -- one metal pod to another -- at seven, eight, fourteen miles per hour. III. I finally peel away from the rush hour rest and fly. Brakes shriek as I careen around a corner, reckless in my new freedom. I pass the standing firemen, all navy jumpsuits and square jaws, at the station with my windows cranked down and The Doobie Brothers blaring from the one good speaker. I sing through the sucker tucked in my cheek just loud enough for them to notice, though I don't know the words to this one. The air screams in one window -- whipping my hair about my neck pouring in my sleeves, around my ankles then biting cheeks and dampening eyes -- before it bursts out another. I watch it in the rearview as it teases the litter in the street behind me; I watch it grow smaller. And I watch the dancing light, filtered through the trees, flying over my hood, windshield and me, faster and faster. An Appaloosa racing through the veins of this metropolis. I assassin down the avenue. |
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| © Copyright 2007 Elizabeth Louise Murray - All Rights Reserved | |||
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midnightblues Senior Member
since 2000-07-01
Posts 1597Singapore |
Hi trebuchet, I like the flow of your writing and the skillful use of imagery, nice dark piece  Looking forward to more of your works. Love, MiCheLLe If there cannot be equal in affection, then let the one with more be me - midnightblues |
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trebuchet Junior Member
since 2007-01-12
Posts 30 |
Thank you... it's always nice to hear positive feedback. That said, I'd love some criticism as well.... if anyone has feedback of any sort, please know I'm very thankful for it. |
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Juju Member Elite
since 2003-12-29
Posts 3429In your dreams |
I like you style of poetry. nice flow. -Juju |
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