Sunday, December 11, 2011

poetry night at the atlas.


Me: We’ll probably be here for the rest of the night.

Chad: And eventually we’ll start doing our homework.

Greg: That’s okay; it’s about the journey right?

Me: I’m not so sure about that.

Greg: Yeah. Journeys don’t get A’s!

My friend Chad and I have been in The Atlas for 2 hours now going over poems that he has been required to write for his poetry class this quarter. I don’t know how well I would do in a poetry class- with all the structure and rules! Chad is probably the most modern poetry-savvy person I’ve ever met (he has committed to memory a whole truck load of Buddy Wakefield), but still he continues to make statements like, “There’s an old lady in my class that’s better at this than me. That’s how bad it is.” But Chad’s poetry is not bad at all- and will be proven NOW.

Mirror- by Chad Aufderhar

I can only imagine what she whispers in your ear

Leaving the air thick with doubt

Leaving holes you believe

I thought I might find a way to explain what I see in you

I fall asleep most nights hoping you are sleeping too

Instead of trying to carve forgiveness

Or pound out the last letter of the word mercy

I want you to be whole

What if happiness caught you by surprise

That last warm afternoon spent with you

Throwing glass into dumpsters

To hear the echoing clatter

Their full release shatter

Our ejection seat rip cords

Pulling us up and away

It’s okay to let go

There is Freedom like victory

Not in the wake of medieval dragon slayers

Victory in line with the underdog crossing the photo finish

She is the only thing keeping you

Convinced reflections are all you deserve

No matter what lies behind—look forward

Your kindness pulled me through

Those days you laughed with my limericks

As we ate lunch against the lockers

Your simple gestures gave me value

A priceless gift I see now

I wish I could give you something

I would give anything

One more afternoon

With that old green dumpster

Leave her there

For garbage trucks to claim

With the rest of the broken glass

If any doubt remain

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