Posts Tagged ‘childhood’

After School

“After school”

used to mean

running up the hill

to melodic chimes—

sharing a slushy,

matching blue tongues.


My mom always gave me

five more minutes

in the “ducky playground.”

There was a broken duck seat

attached to the ground

with a spring.

I sat on it,

rocking it back and

forth, side to side,

trying to break it



My best friend told me secrets

before we slid down

the biggest slide,

and we always liked

the same boys. I hated that

but loved her,

and we wrote bad songs

and stayed up late watching

sad movies.


Now “after school” means

401k plans, an unpaid lunch hour,

and early dentist appointments.

Resumes catered to jobs catered

to people catered to me, but

never catered to you.

If you aren’t full time,

you are wasting time,

and there is no time

for you and me

to talk about what we want.

Never say

what a company can do for you.

What can you do for them?

What can you do for me?



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Instead of comparing
something that is beautiful
or someone we love
to the sun,
why don’t we compare the sun
to something beautiful
or someone we love?
Same for the sky, the moon,
and all of those easily accessible
metaphors we can’t wait to get
our greasy fingers on.
Maybe you can’t say the sun
is like the glow in your wife’s
eyes, and maybe you can’t say
the sunset is like shades being
pulled down just enough so
you can still see a slit where
the glare from the Christmas tree lights
spill out a little, and maybe you
can’t think of anything that smells
better than burning wood that
makes you think of your childhood,
and maybe you can’t stop looking
at your cat and watching her sleep
and knowing that if you even tried
to compare your cat to anything
she would know.
Because the truth is you can’t compare
nature to anything.
A dragonfly is a like a dragonfly
and that’s all there is to it.

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