La Quinta- Lubbock, Texas (Road trip #1)
Biggest concern at the moment is whether or not I'll regret
writing in the downstairs lobby
(Missing out on a cushy window
seat spied on the second floor)
The lethargy of showers and pajamas wins,
and gratitude for words finally emerging
has terrified me to glue
As if shifting a mere floor in a building in the west of Texas
might clamp down on what little poetry is pumping forth
There are teenagers here
Taking up energetic space in a way
only the adolescent can
A group thirty or so, but it could be three hundred
Used the treadmill in the small gym across the hall,
more so because the end goal is to be a person who genuinely
enjoys such things,
rather than actually being that particular person at this juncture in time
One man came in and left rapidly, as if my presence
embarrassed the both of us
(His eyes stayed carefully averted)
A teenage boy and girl,
with an intimacy only best friends can manage,
strolled in, scoped the equipment, and rejoined
the throng of merry three hundred outside
Two girls showed-
one in workout gear with a bag of Cheetos
who cheerfully informed me she was going to
eat and watch her friend workout instead
Her friend was wearing jeans and a lace tank top
The lace tank top biked to a television show
In an accent thick enough to stand pulpit on
said I reminded her of her Aunt Christine
Replying that I hoped her aunt was fabulous,
she readily agreed that her Auntie Christine was
her favorite out of all of them
(Lamented for the merest moment that I
looked old enough to be this girl's aunt,
albeit the favorite of all)
She continued on-
They were all from Springfield,
which was "5 hours away in the middle of nothin'"
and here for a literary competition
(She's competing in poetry)
The Cheetos jumped up and deigned to bicycle too
(She's competing in debate)
Springfield, a whooping town of eighteen hundred,
was once a "good Christian town"
but certain kinds of folks from the surrounding cities
are starting to move in
With all her fourteen years, the lace tank top sighed,
"It just ain't what it used to be"
I nodded in solemn agreement
They wiggled and adjusted,
pulling down shirts over backsides falling out
Yanking up shirts again over young decolletage
Their only concern-
a competition the next morning
and shifting demographics in their once pristine home
Missing the days when poetry was a competition
and not a carefully guarded well of limited fossil fuel
Only so much to go around and horrified of running dry
Two years of adulthood so absolute and the words got misplaced
to Lubbock, Texas
As if they too took a break from bereavement
and went on a road trip
Genuinely hoping that words will make themselves
more readily available these days,
seeing as how adulthood doesn't stop once it begins
and there is nothing more necessary
than the ability to cope
Hope Springfield stays pure,
at least for their sake
Hope they stay young for a while longer,
for mine
writing in the downstairs lobby
(Missing out on a cushy window
seat spied on the second floor)
The lethargy of showers and pajamas wins,
and gratitude for words finally emerging
has terrified me to glue
As if shifting a mere floor in a building in the west of Texas
might clamp down on what little poetry is pumping forth
There are teenagers here
Taking up energetic space in a way
only the adolescent can
A group thirty or so, but it could be three hundred
Used the treadmill in the small gym across the hall,
more so because the end goal is to be a person who genuinely
enjoys such things,
rather than actually being that particular person at this juncture in time
One man came in and left rapidly, as if my presence
embarrassed the both of us
(His eyes stayed carefully averted)
A teenage boy and girl,
with an intimacy only best friends can manage,
strolled in, scoped the equipment, and rejoined
the throng of merry three hundred outside
Two girls showed-
one in workout gear with a bag of Cheetos
who cheerfully informed me she was going to
eat and watch her friend workout instead
Her friend was wearing jeans and a lace tank top
The lace tank top biked to a television show
In an accent thick enough to stand pulpit on
said I reminded her of her Aunt Christine
Replying that I hoped her aunt was fabulous,
she readily agreed that her Auntie Christine was
her favorite out of all of them
(Lamented for the merest moment that I
looked old enough to be this girl's aunt,
albeit the favorite of all)
She continued on-
They were all from Springfield,
which was "5 hours away in the middle of nothin'"
and here for a literary competition
(She's competing in poetry)
The Cheetos jumped up and deigned to bicycle too
(She's competing in debate)
Springfield, a whooping town of eighteen hundred,
was once a "good Christian town"
but certain kinds of folks from the surrounding cities
are starting to move in
With all her fourteen years, the lace tank top sighed,
"It just ain't what it used to be"
I nodded in solemn agreement
They wiggled and adjusted,
pulling down shirts over backsides falling out
Yanking up shirts again over young decolletage
Their only concern-
a competition the next morning
and shifting demographics in their once pristine home
Missing the days when poetry was a competition
and not a carefully guarded well of limited fossil fuel
Only so much to go around and horrified of running dry
Two years of adulthood so absolute and the words got misplaced
to Lubbock, Texas
As if they too took a break from bereavement
and went on a road trip
Genuinely hoping that words will make themselves
more readily available these days,
seeing as how adulthood doesn't stop once it begins
and there is nothing more necessary
than the ability to cope
Hope Springfield stays pure,
at least for their sake
Hope they stay young for a while longer,
for mine
Comments
Post a Comment