Joe Quinton: 5 Poems
PROVIDENCE
I walked its streets a wiseass kid
knowing the difference
between fenestration and defenestration
and not much more.
The city was old - at least my favorite part
depression, war, had left not decay
but stillness
you could fantasize
poe walked here and lovecraft
it was their footsteps I followed
seeing not shabbiness but history
etched in wood
DAD
I imitate my father
not wanting to.
These foolish moves,
gestures, comments,
I know are based
on things he did
in years passed.
He is gone.
Twelve years ago
I kissed his stillness.
Those patterns in my life
should be gone with him
But they are implanted.
I will always carry
Him with me.
WILKES-BARRE
At a bar I met a man
calm, smoking a pipe
I made praising comments
about the woods and hills surrounding
His reply was quick and noisy
tales of violated land
torn apart by greed
leaving waste and debris.
Sounding as if he alone
had roamed this spotless wilderness.
For me, a child of concrete
there is nature here
however damaged, trodden down,
green triumphs on the hills.
The front seat of a car is an ideal place To make statements that will be hurtful. You are not facing - staring in the eye. Whatever reaction there is can be ignored. We were driving past Westboro when I said I wanted our marriage to end. We had played this tune Over and over wherever we were. We were more apart than when We first went to the counseling sessions. Those sessions. The doctor would not see Both of us together, the anger was so strong. So here we were in the car. Maybe we had gone For ice cream. That did not help.
DRIVING
“DANCE AS IF NO ONE IS WATCHING” I dance Alone Music-ed Alone Surrounded Alone Looking Alone Comparing Alone Dancing
