Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I eat my lunch on a bench just in front of the English Building (Ray B. West), overlooking the Quad. I have discovered that this is the perfect time to whip out my notebook and, amid sandwhich crumbs, scratch out some poetry. This is my time to write about whatever I want. It's a beautiful thing. I've decided that I want to eventually gather up all my "lunchbreak" poems in one collection and call it
The Bench Confessions
Here is what I have so far. Keep in mind, these are merely my scribbles in my notebook, and not assignments for my class. And if you don't get it . . . it's all right - it is poetry!
The Other Side of Me
could you complete
someone enough
to find them
hiding inside you
maybe they’d be
so inclined to find
that you hide
inside them too
to find you
leaching
preaching
praying
day-dreaming
singing in their ears
I’m here
remember
we’re the same
I don’t think that I
qualify to be
the other half of
who you are
but you’re already
halfly hid
inside the
other side of me
2 Cents a Minute
you can talk to me
in
for 2 cents a minute
and when you can’t sleep
you can call me
I’ll be eating dinner
and during your lunch break
I’m just waking up
I would love
to talk to you then
when you’re brushing your teeth
getting ready for bed
I am just getting out
of the pool
I have time for you
8 hours ahead
10 digits to dial
for 2 cents a minute
am I worth it
am I worth it
Only a Poem
a river without water
is just a fissure
and a chair without a back
is just a stool
a balloon without air
is just a choking hazard
a diamond without a ring
is just a rock
and an airplane without wings
is just a submarine
today without you
is just another day
my eyes are just blue
my heart is just beating
the sun is just shining
I’m doing just fine
a song without a tune
is just a poem
you are the music
and I am the words
so when you are gone
I am only a poem
I’ve Had Bitter Days
people disgust me
that couple by the steps
holding hands
touching
like nobody can see
honestly!
I take a bite
lipstick and juice
the white flesh
burns to brown
around the edges
like halibut under the broiler
I pick sticky skin out of my teeth
with my tongue
and spit it onto the sidewalk
apple is a little tart today
Handlebars
I would love to ride
on the handlebars
of a handsome boy’s bike
have him take the corners
carefully
my hair softly breezing
in his face
he smells my shampoo
and smiles
thinking I just have the cutest legs
dangling off those handlebars
I’d lean back
shrug my shoulders
so content
I’d feel his breath on my cheek
as he whispers
“you smell good…”
this will make me laugh
when we stop
he will catch me
in his hands
before I fall
off the handlebars
The Comma Butt
we are best friends Comma Butt
we live too far away
I wrote you a song Comma Butt
you'll never hear me play it
at night I miss you Comma Butt
I only get to have you in my dreams
I love you Comma Butt
you never will love me
Disappointed
who is the man
who stands there
in the shade
under the tree
he is dressed nice
blue button-up shirt
khaki slacks
I’d introduce myself
if I weren’t me
he turns
picks up his backpack
he’s walking this way
he’s right in front of me!
I smile
he doesn’t see
he looked so much more attractive
in the shade
under the tree
The Bench
I have become
the invisible girl
who sits
in front of the
alone
on a bench
in the sun
during my lunch break
who writes poetry
for fun
who watches passing people
for inspiration
who recognizes them all
he rolls his own cigarettes
smokes them dead
and jams them into that ashtray – there
every day before class
she is always late
but hair and makeup always done
just right
she wears square glasses and likes scarves
that kid drives by
at approximately
windows rolled down, sharing his loud music
I don’t care for heavy metal, but… thanks
who recognizes them all
and wonders
if they see
the invisible girl
on the bench
