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Doolittle

by Amanda Conlogue

Nothing to do today as I sit
Here and listen to the Pixies
Doolittle, doing less than little
My mind wanders, gathering wool
I was in grade school
When this album came out
I watched my brother in purple
Cap and gown graduate as it began
To rain, names called faster and faster
As thunder grew closer, we were
So proud as the first drops hit
The dry, dusty ground, mud creeping
Into my sandals like a sentinel
Seven years later, I found myself
At my own graduation, pomp and circumstance
My own cap and gown of virginal white
There was no rain that day, there was
No pride, just a shame to be there
I’d discovered The Doors and was enamored
With Jim and his snarling sullenness
I wanted to break on through the ceremony
The town with its familiar mocking faces
I wanted to break on through self-imposed walls
To some perfect utopia where I could
Be free, from what, I’ve yet to figure out
(And it’s been years), but I stayed
And broke through nothing and endured
The drone of alphabetized names
All speeches passed like fat bumblebees
By my ear, afterwards, I walked towards
My car, dragging an honor stole
I didn’t want to wear through dusty earth
Because there was no rain that day.

03/02/2000

Posted on 01/21/2003
Copyright © 2024 Amanda Conlogue

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Max Bouillet on 06/13/03 at 12:31 PM

You make tremendous associations and parallels in the poem... nicely written.

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