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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Sunday, May 29, 2011

The City

image courtesy of Scott Wyden
For him there was no prom
He walked across the stage at graduation
There were a few claps
And a few more snickers
He packed his bag, hugged his mom
And left
He had no delusions
That he would be better loved
In the city
But at least there
He could find
Places to hide

and a belated Friday Flash 55

11 comments:

ayala said...

I like where you wen with this... Nice :)

Brian Miller said...

think i may know him...and yes i imagine there is...

Christine said...

I am afraid my son may do this when he leaves this small town, idiots give him migraines too.

Fireblossom said...

This reminds me of that old Bronski Beat song "Small Town Boy". In a small town, the way a person is seen by others is seemingly set in stone by the time they hit high school. Fortunately, there's a big world out there for those who don't fit in so neatly.

libithina said...

Aww out into the big wide world ~
~ I LOVED this ~ can be a scary place even for those of us seasoned 'travellers' of life ~ Lib @Libithina

Fireblossom said...

They say that turnabout is fair play, and therefore, there is something for you to nibble on at my blog!

PS--have you tried Pepperidge Farm Milano Melts? To die for.

hedgewitch said...

Great 55, and total capture of a turning point in a life in a few short phrases.

darev2005 said...

Been looking all my life for the perfect place to hide. Now I pretty much just hide behind my face.

Doug Stephens said...

And now I am sad.

halfwaybetweenthegutter said...

Wow. Touched a nerve with me, this did. Superbly written,

I've tried to hide in cities before. It's a tempting path to take.

http://halfwaybetweenthegutter.wordpress.com/

Steve Isaak said...

Oh-so-relatable, excellent, perfect.