slice of life

This and That

Folder: 
All In Love

 

I break from sleep, the sunshine on my head,

Rolling out of bed on the tired side, 

Still feels like every night is just a few

Seconds long. The clothes fall on me, 

Shifting fabrics in a sea of purpose. 

Moving, down, down the stairs, 

To the kitchen, to the car. 

Today is a day for lunch with her. 

The brisk cold wind is murder on my 

Nose but I don’t mind,

With her in mind.  

The sun is

Reaching through the pale grey clouds, 

Maybe today’s not so gloomy after all? 

Either way the sound of her voice warms 

My chill.

Time for lunch, lunchtime and we sit parallel 

And laugh,

We ask, Do you think that guy looks like

Jesus in the booth over there? 

I think the girl looks a little like Mary Magdalene, 

Jesus might be the same one from school. 

The one that plays the guitar? 

Yes, that’s the one!

The conversation is light and it mirrors 

In the light in her eyes, steady 

But not cold like her fingers,

Still freezing from outside. 

What have you drawn?

I’m inking this now.

Oh god! To have character like you!

Pink lips are all the reward I need.

Don’t part, stay with me.

We walk, walking outside,

The world seems quiet when you 

Only listen to one voice, 

But so loud with contentment. 

We browse books, smelling the 

Crackling new pages and wishing

We had more than a few dollars to

Our names,

If only we could be so carefree,

Oh… I never want to leave!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This one was the first poem I submitted to my creative writing class. 

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"All-American Dreamings"

by Jeph Johnson

 

 

the day after my Buccaneer winnings
from the "big game" XXXVII
arrived in the form of a

$45 check in my mailbox...

(I had some friends wager

five of my bucks

on their August

Vegas vacation)

we are on the brink of a war

they are saying will incite more terror;
more "nine-elevens"

and rouse a hornet's nest
of Al-Qada cells

wielding car bombs

of bio-nuclear dirt

 

but the only nest I want on my mind

is the nest egg Tammy and I
are trying to establish

via an "American Dream"
that until she arrived

I never even considered

I entrusted my five dollars

with my free-and-easy
vacationing friends...

and despite all year distrusting

the Tampa Bay running game
Pittman still ran for over 100 yards! 

 

now the woman I love

(who seems to
-until we marry and the rice is thrown-
still wonder why I do)

and I
have to waste our time

deciding if we should

encourage other's kids
(unlike many

we are waiting until

after we are married

to consider children)
to Go! Fight! Win!
this war none of us understand

 

or

 

to protest

by sending rice to Washington

so the President can
"feed our enemies"

like Jesus requested

(a funny thought

came into my head

just now

in the middle of writing this poem:

what if the people of Iraq

started shooting us

with rice bullets?
that would be funny!)

 

interestingly enough

Tammy didn't understand
when she first started

watching the NFL

that September Sunday

but by season's end

she had Marvin Harrison's

130-plus receptions
on her fantasy team's statistics

while recognizing Jerry Porter's 

rookie brilliance 

amidst Tim Brown and Jerry Rice

(more rice - how funny!)

so as I keep jotting down

thoughts that seem to continue

bouncing like a football

what are the MGM Grand odds?
(or is U.S. vs. Iraq off the board?)

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

2003, for Tammy 

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