So, this is my brand-spanking new blog. The goal right now is to post a poem per day for as long as possible, and hopefully to get some feedback from anyone with spare time. Today is going to be a cop-out of sorts, since I just posted this poem on Facebook, not thinking I would have the time to set this up. Here goes:
Why We Go Alone
The boys bathrooms are monuments to frustration,
built on a foundation of faded floors,
scuffed tile, and trash cans dented from kicks.
There are never any couches; just
a legacy in dirty linoleum, a testament
to the type of mess that you can
never learn to leave behind.
The words scratched on the wall
on the other side of stall spell out
a highly abridged history of humanity:
"why can't we.."
"why wont you.."
"why don't I.."
"..Fuck"
Soap dispensers are empty, because sometimes
we can't seem to get our hands clean.
Paper towels are rough to make us rougher.
Every intentionally flood urinal was a metaphor
for something, and every broken mirror is a blow
to a face we've wanted to punch, at least once.
Sometimes a restroom is a refuge, a place
to smoke a cigarette without stepping
into the cold. The scriptures of that sanctuary
say "call gina for a good time", but this is only
because misery loves company. Nothing
spreads distress better than expecting
simplicity and being disappointed.
On our worst nights, we go
out to the bars, or bring a bottle
back to bed with us, but afterwards
will always hold the possibility of
porcelain prayer purging, a confession
in the confines of the one room where
no one is allowed to talk to us; where
established etiquette dictates distance,
degrees of separation to discourage snooping.
We stand 1-3-5 in acknowledgement of
lines that should never be crossed. We
make our signature scratches because
sometimes they are. An open window often
isn't enough to exorcise the stink.
Every day, across America,
a high school is evacuated for
fires in the toilet or
nearby trash cans.
In all honesty, I can understand
the why.
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Sweet.
ReplyDeleteThe public bathroom ritual is incredibly important in our society and the taboo against deviant behavior is particularly strong.
It's a place of deep vulnerability, almost intimacy, and we prefer not to share it with others. Most of us, anywho.
Some of us a little more than others.
If you really care to listen to observations about bathroom rituals, you know who you should talk to.
I love the 1-3-5 line. It's a strong image of isolation within a social setting. Silly Boys :P
ReplyDeleteholy shit, one a day? kudos and good luck :)
ReplyDeleteabout the poem: there's something that's missing here that i've come to anticipate in your writing... something in the sounds or the rhythm that usually drives your line forward. as usual you have some wonderful phrases, but there's something about all of it that isn't coming together for me... i don't know. maybe an excess, even. or maybe part of the reason is that it feels unintentionally humorous. what do you think?
also, do you get email notifications when people post comments?
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ReplyDeletehello froggy
ReplyDelete-
"We stand 1-3-5 in acknowledgement of
lines that should never be crossed. We
make our signature scratches because
sometimes they are. An open window often
isn't enough to exorcise the stink."
-i love this; it's my favorite.
there's something about it that feels so honest and hits me in that compelling slightly aching way that your poems often do, spech at, "We / make our signature scratches because / sometimes they are." also, what an awesome line-break; you have awesome line breaks everywhere.
anyway, (the boring stupid stuff,) you could cut little bits like "monuments to frustration" - your images say this already but in a less literal way, "because sometimes" (in the third stanza) - because it's not needed, "but this is only"- i don't think this is needed either,(4th s.) and possibly the rest of the 4th stanza from "Nothing..." onwards, "afterwards" (5th s.) because its vague, or you could rework this part to make it clearer what you mean without saying it; these bits sorta fall on the wayside when you've got interesting images like your empty soap dispensers and toilets.
i get your epiphany at the end, but it felt like it almost was too much and did the rest of your poem horrible injustice for trying to summarize it after you poured it out; your second to last stanza would've been the perfect place to end the poem, actually. if you wanted to keep the first four lines of the last stanza, maybe you could move it to the start of the current second to last stanza.
-fanny