The Bench Confessions cont.

I guess this is the second part of the bench poetry run. Once the weather got cold enough, I stopped having lunch on my bench, and sadly, I stopped writing "lunch-break" poetry. Don't take these too seriously, please. Remember they're mere rantings and ravings of a bored squiggle.

Young Love's Corpse -9/30/10

There's a coffin under my bed.
That's where I buried you
after you killed me.

A gray shoebox,
covered in dust
like another layer of skin,
tear-streaked fingerprints
seal the lid.

Inside,
an immortal obsession.
A body of paper
and words,
decaying memories,
soul of summer,
rotting,
decomposing,
growing mold
under my bed.



The Sprinkler Guys -9/30/10

the sprinkler guys come
in their little green
kawasaki golf cart
with their flags
and dirty hands
baseball caps
and blue jeans
with green knees
they make the sprinklers
turn on
all around my bench
darn those sprinkler guys
now my shoes are wet



Invisible Girl No More -10/1/10

They do see me!
I'm not just an extension
of the bench.

No cigarette today
for ashtray guy;
instead,
he nods at me
and smiles.
Breadcumbs and peanut butter
in my teeth,
I smile back.

Scarf girl is on time today.
She says hello,
looking right at me through
those square glasses.
A sloshy hi and juicy
bits of gala leap
from my lips.

I hear a hint of
heavy metal
rocking its way down the street.
Yep.
Kid in the car is still
sharing his music
with me.
It's 1:20
and the sprinkler guys are back.



I Am Same -10/1/10

Every day
I wake up at the same time,
eat for breakfast the same thing
I had for dinner
the previous night,
Every morning
I fix my lunch--
peanut butter and jelly sandwich,
smash it,
put it in a bag
with an apple.
I take the same route
to school,
to class,
to lunch,
12:30
every day
I sit on the same side
of the same bench
in the same patch of sun,
and I eat first the apple,
then the sandwich,
picking it off in bite-sized pieces.
Then I reach into the same pocket
to get the same flavor of gum.
I watch the same people
and write in the same notebook,
wearing the same sunglasses
and the same pair of shoes.
My life is so same sometimes.



Same No More -10/4/10

No bench today,
no peanut butter sandwich,
it's zucchini bread inside
for now.
but this couch is nice.



October -10/4/10

September slipped out like a twisted ankle,
tripping me on my way to class.

October came in like a crafty kid,
flinging open the dressing-room curtain,

catching me
completely naked,

and yelled, boo.




Craving Lasagna at Lunch-time -10/4/10

force-feeding myself carrots
ritualistically determined
mechanically automatic
with disciplined conviction

I swear I can smell lasagna somewhere
lasagna leaking cheese
squeezing marinara sauce
it's oozing down the stairs
in rubber olive boots

crunch crunch crunch
and swallow
mm . . . carrots



There you have it. Once October hit, the bench and my precious poetic lunch-breaks turned into girl talk/email hour in the classroom with Stacy, Jess, and Jenny. Thusly, I conclude this season of "Bench Confessions." I hope you've enjoyed the words. Thanks for humoring me.