Thursday, June 11, 2009

Untitled*

she stepped from the flame
and asked me my name
and all i could do
was look at the floor

afraid of her stare
that seemed to ask where
i turned away quickly
and made for the door

she may not have hurt
and my exit was curt
though somewhere within me
i heard somebody sigh

but my will is so thin
i was soon back again
looking for her
that would get me to try;

her hotpants on fire
i danced with desire
but desire went home
with someone less weak

so i bought love a drink
hoping i needn’t think
but she gave her logic
in a tongue i don’t speak

at the end of the bar
i dialed for a car
as dawn was preparing
to unfurl her clean sheets

then i hung up the phone
and i set out alone
as the night passed out drunk
in its dead empty streets

[early / mid 90's]
* titles were apparantly not very important to me at this time - or maybe i thought it was very cool and artsy to not have them - i don't remember.

7 comments:

Aniket said...

I love how you wrap your stories into those poetic words... I am planning on the same lines tonight. Passing out somewhere that is. :)

Julie said...

I love it, Joaquin. That last stanza is fantastic. I also love how she "stepped from the flame" in the beginning. The character you portray is a bit mysterious, and I love that. I can imagine so many things about her. Yet at the same time, the story is vivid. Wonderful details. I'm so glad you're posting. Your experiment is a good one. Excellent work!!

Brosreview said...

Nicely done! As Aniket put it, you wrap them stories very well into poems. Keep them coming!

Karen said...

"though somewhere within me
i heard somebody sigh"

I like! I love the last stanza, too. And you had these on the shelf somewhere?

Catvibe said...

Wow. All them up there already said everything I was going to say, so ditto them, and, you know, I kinda know that feeling.

RachelW said...

Dawn's sheets; I like that.

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

You have such a talent for storytelling. It amazes me how you can take an event, create a story around it, whittle it down and have a complete narrative in a few stanzas!


For me - this is sort of film noir - ONLY in that I envision the scene in a oneiric, low light setting, with characterizations of that genre. Helping to create that mood were the bar, dancing, calling a taxi?, night turning to morning, passing out drunk, empty streets at dawn...

her hotpants on fire
i danced with desire
but desire went home
with someone less weak

Excellent lines - I think the whole poem hinges on these lines. This was the turning point - she leaves with someone else, the speaker tries to get involved with another girl at the bar and sees the futility of it all and just goes home alone.

Fantastic narrative and charater study, of sorts - as always a pleasure to read your work - no matter how many years ago it was written!