Wow, am I behind! Luckily I wrote quite a few haiku and pwoemrds! I feel like that is slightly cheating, however. Not cheating, but it has been since last week that I wrote any poetry.
Ah, so today... this will be quick. Must revise later. More brainstorming than anything.
Poem for Catalina High School at Night
The orangey lights fade in at the push of a button.
Guys in their fifties who have just changed from button-downs
compete at tennis. They're still pretty fit.
They run the court and get the ball.
They have good-quality athletic shoes.
One by one, the roller derby chicks show up.
They have short choppy layers in their hair.
They pull pink wheeled carry-on suitcases.
They wear t-shirts sloganed with rude sentiments.
They put on stickered helmets and go through their paces,
changing up to the whistle
while bald guys with funky little mustaches
and dusty children look on.
I run up the stadium steps.
I walk the track with all the middle-aged teachers
and moms taking me-time
in stretchy work-out pants.
Some guys in their twenties show up in their running shorts
and start timing themselves doing sprints.
One of them holds a pit-bull on a leash.
A local homie walks the track in a sweatsuit
too hot for the weather
the hood hides his headphones
On the football field, a man kicks a soccer ball with a toddler.
three kids play basketball on the darkening courts
on the other skating rink a teen boy practices
subdued tricks on his BMX,
meditatively rolling forward between each one.
A roller-blader with his hockey gear skates circles
around him, warming up for the rest of his team.
the sun has disappeared, and the light continues to go.
I run up the rusty stadium steps and look west
over the top as I breathe and wait
for my heart-rate to rise
to make sure I'm not dizzy before I head down.
Ah, so today... this will be quick. Must revise later. More brainstorming than anything.
Poem for Catalina High School at Night
The orangey lights fade in at the push of a button.
Guys in their fifties who have just changed from button-downs
compete at tennis. They're still pretty fit.
They run the court and get the ball.
They have good-quality athletic shoes.
One by one, the roller derby chicks show up.
They have short choppy layers in their hair.
They pull pink wheeled carry-on suitcases.
They wear t-shirts sloganed with rude sentiments.
They put on stickered helmets and go through their paces,
changing up to the whistle
while bald guys with funky little mustaches
and dusty children look on.
I run up the stadium steps.
I walk the track with all the middle-aged teachers
and moms taking me-time
in stretchy work-out pants.
Some guys in their twenties show up in their running shorts
and start timing themselves doing sprints.
One of them holds a pit-bull on a leash.
A local homie walks the track in a sweatsuit
too hot for the weather
the hood hides his headphones
On the football field, a man kicks a soccer ball with a toddler.
three kids play basketball on the darkening courts
on the other skating rink a teen boy practices
subdued tricks on his BMX,
meditatively rolling forward between each one.
A roller-blader with his hockey gear skates circles
around him, warming up for the rest of his team.
the sun has disappeared, and the light continues to go.
I run up the rusty stadium steps and look west
over the top as I breathe and wait
for my heart-rate to rise
to make sure I'm not dizzy before I head down.
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