Who was that girl, covered in cheap thrill?
the one who got so happy when you looked her way
who drew you paintings
kept your dirty shirt
pushed you on the swing-set even though we both weighed too much
days of over-size flannel and Doc Martens
Smashing Pumpkins versus Hole
you said I looked like
Ione Skye
you didn’t resemble
John Cusack
while the studious exchange students with excitement hangovers
wouldn’t climb out of their window and meet in the high weeds park
even by then I knew how to have sex in public without my skirt getting wet
who needed second base?
go all the way and work backwards
you weren’t the wrong choice were you?
wearing eyeliner and forgetting birth control
all then, a bad trick in adolescent undergrowth
slurs are girls with provocation
before social media calumny
dimpled notes
inking who gives the best head
who has the firmest … grasp
you have me laid open in your sweat shirt like a dissected stag beetle still able to feel its shell
sent me crayon colored tapes where you exulted my willingness
I sang on my knees like Marianne Faithful with a throat-full
thinking you filled me with more than noise
riding our bikes after, sore between the legs
slow were the socially awkward who did it right first time, soothing off their spectacles for CEO jobs
while we daughter’s of descending dusk
carved deep our error
in the inside of our doughy thighs
the days a road lay empty as a girl’s hands
saturating smell of popcorn
fantasizing backward to the beginning
illuminated by glow stars on the ceiling of his room
habits inching across failings
unfinished sympathies
how can a song collapse a heart?
wishbone shaping the way like Baba Yaga’s dance of skeletons
we who didn’t need food
ran ragged on empty
female cranberry bogs filled with ire and specter
and one day we were no longer young
staring down at boxes of cassettes and letters tied with pieces of the past holding up a manikin who could once have been us
now unsure in twilight of age
as time will betray all but deepest memory
adhering despite all attempt
to dissuade
Reblogged this on TheFeatheredSleep and commented:
This week’s post on Hijacked Amygdala
LikeLike
‘unfinished sympathies’ so good 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Bit of a Roy Orbison theft 😉
LikeLike
I wouldn’t have known 🙂 I have heard that he was greatly under-rated.
LikeLike
This is super-cool. I used to be compared to John Cusak all the time as a kid. Brought me back to that.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. You? I don’t think you look even 1 percent like him but maybe as a kid? I don’t see it but then again I have a friend who is compared to Robert Downy Jr whom I think is really handsome and he looks NOTHING like him (I mean chalk and cheese) isn’t it interesting and funny and weird how people can see that in you and another person does not? I liked that film they were both in. Living in the eighties! 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
When i was a kid, much more. I definitely sported the Better off dead look when i was young, thin and had short hair parted down the middle.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow I don’t see it but perception is fascinating and my perception is skewed. I think he’s handsome mostly his personality and the films he’s in.
LikeLike
I look nothing like him how 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hahaha someone said i looked like Madeline stowe I wish but I absolutely do not!
LikeLike
Also, i have a sense of humor/sensibility very much like him in Better Off Dead and Say Anything … and even a bit Serendipity.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Remember the one called The Sure Thing, I loved that
LikeLike
yup, i remember The Sure Thing
LikeLike
Great poem! I love all of the imagery and the shared memories. You are a master!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yowza! Great piece!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much for the yowza I loved that!
LikeLiked by 1 person
A master of poetic craft and a memory flash to the good old times.
This line got me:
how can a song collapse a heart?
wishbone shaping the way like Baba Yaga’s dance of skeletons
A song or any song of that matter moves the heart emotionally, & painfully.
Baba Yaga the skeletons is a metaphor of things we are afraid of and wish not to be, but to confront the dark in our most inner strength and ward off the demons that lurk our way.
Beautifully written as always sis. 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you dear one
LikeLiked by 1 person
You welcome my dearest one. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Liked your post. Nice work
You can also visit me at https://fromroopalismind.wordpress.com/blogs/
Tell me what you think about them too. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much
LikeLike
Holy shit…that was fantastic. I can’t even pick the lines I like best. There are too many. You are wonderful.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you talented Flash!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pingback: Gift for a Hot-Girl – Flash 365
So goddamn gorgeous..and that loud thumping you heard in the background is my heart when you said, “Ione Skye” Gods, i was so in love with that crooked smile of hers. Love!! ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is such an incredible piece. My favorite lines are: “while we daughter’s of descending dusk/ carved deep our error/ in the inside of our doughy thighs.” That hit home for me. It’s extremely intimate. Thank you for sharing!
LikeLiked by 1 person
So often, after I read one of your poems I am left with inadequate words to describe the tremendous emotion, feelings, memories, and thoughts your amazing poetry evokes in me. What a beautifully nostalgic poem, with a contemporary feel. I must confess even though I have never been the type that could remember the long list of movies any actor/actress has been in, I do like John Cusack, but had to google who Ione Skye was… I suck at pop culture trivia, lol…. I think it’s some sort of mental defect I have, I’m the same way with music… I love music, all kinds, but don’t have a list of artists or their song titles readily available for my brain to recall… hence I really suck at name that tune as well…. wow, I really wondered off topic on this comment haha ღ
LikeLiked by 2 people