Okay, I'm Invisible
So what now? The locker room at the YMCA
only took a half hour, and I've spied on the mohawk'd
guy I've followed home for the last 45 minutes
but all he's done is listen to "Stairway to Heaven"
on repeat, scratching his belly plateau, slowly, free
thumb
hovering near the shuffle button on the remote
in case his sneering housemates arrive. Am I wasting
my time? I should be saving babies, kittens, maybe
I'll head down to the grade school, leave the back door
open
for a three-legged dog. Minor mischief and
misdemeanor
peeping: I'm useless. I move closer, his head is weaving
with the chorus, Marlboro smoke swirling through
the dark spikes of his hair. Up close, his face creases
with the late hours of shift work, his van
on cinderblocks. I am on his lap.
All superhero, I try to think of where my hands
might do some good, might remind him of being
seventeen in a backseat with Alexis from homeroom
popping Bubble Yum in his speakershot ears, might
make him think it's all lewd slowdances,
it's all Led Zeppelin in a basement with your
headphones on. The song picks up tempo
and I am magnificent and delicate like a surgeon.
He thinks it's just the song bouncing off
scratched hardwood floors, the late afternoon
shining sweetly through the blinds.
— Erin Keane, author of The Gravity Soundtrack
This poem is offered as part of our July theme: Rock & Roll
All poems, art, and photos are public domain, creative commons, or used by permission of author or publisher. WordFarm, 2007. Photo by Ralph-Thompson, via Fllickr.
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Summer Treat
Creative Genius Workshop II
Boost your creativity. Find your voice. Leader Kathryn Neel has helped develop creative solutions for a Google preferred company, Sony, Marriott, and Disney.
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How to Read a Poem?
What sounds sock you in the gut or delight you? A coyote's howl, coffee brewing, people turning magazine pages? If you can listen, you can read poetry.
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