A Short Account

The night the junkyard caught fire
We stood at the corner of her street,
Holding hands
And watching tires pop beyond the train tracks.
We walked home through the haze
Of June Bugs and leftover exhaust.
I read her Etheridge Knight,
Feeling Fucked Up.
And I imagined her smiling at the longing,
Sloppy, dangerously love-ridden reflection in my eyes.
Her hands were warm. I climbed inside.
And we waited for the sun to shut off.
 

Reviews

[alesuriko]

This is amazing. So descriptive and the imagery is explicit and intense. I really enjoyed the tone it was written in. It's so emotional and yet deprived of emotion at the same time... bleak and emotionless. Such a great poem, well done!

[Hedra Helix]

frikking awesome, I was livin it as you were laying it out, to me those are the best kind- when you can feel the time.

[Plexiglass]

So I read feeling fucked up by knight--pretty cool poem. And I like this poem as well, its kind of got that slice of life feel. It doesn't feel as if anything spectacular is going on in the poem but it's still engrossing and filled with an unique perspective. This is very well written and I can tell you've got a good grasp of the language. I just take issue with a few nitpicky things though. I would like if you used less periods and kind of strung these lines together a bit more so the poem could build up momentum. I think you should have like "...knight's feeling..." instead of the comma. The fourth to last line is weird to me because I'm not sure why the speaker is imagining something when he could be doing it at that moment...if that makes sense. Anyway good poem and good end.