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

Monday, July 21, 2014

On the Brink Of

We were ten or eleven
Still just kids but
almost not
Young enough to play on the playground
Old enough to notice
(not quite hidden in the woods)
girls stealing smokes
and making out with boys

We were at that awkward stage
One minute playing with Barbies
the next, examining our silhouettes,
waiting for them to look like Barbie's
It was a time of imagined possibilities
and dreams smashed in linoleum school hallways

On the brink of we didn't know what
Our lips kissed only by Bonne Belle strawberry
we practiced by kissing ourselves in the mirror
I suggested (jokingly)
(Why was my heart beating so madly?)
that maybe we should practice on each other
"Gross!" you said, and I
didn't miss a beat, "Yeah, I know, right?"
and that was that.

The next year you had a boyfriend
and we lost touch
But I still remember those on the brink days
and your freckled nose.

 submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Open Link Monday


Kerry O'Connor said...

There is so much innocence in this poem, but an innocence not of ignorance - the hint of things to come are on the edges of consciousness.

Helen said...

I remember them too ~~~ your poem about those days is enchanting.

Unknown said...

oh! sad- to loose girlfriends for boyfriends!! i never liked barbies much... they make us grow up sooner than we should... with their perfect figure and makeup and hair!!

Fireblossom said...

Aw, Mousey! As a gal who is weak for freckles, you know i really liked this one. :-)

Susan said...

Wonderful "innocent" poem lifting the skirts of pre-teens to show what was really happening.

Maude Lynn said...

Oh, I love this!

Margaret said...

Were you writing about me? Awesome "back in the day' poem.

Anonymous said...

such a clear voice ~