by Lauren Singer
andy puked in the car. but i still love him.
elaine and i recorded our voices on her little tape deck
we kept playing it back and giggling like idiots
with the windows down, airing it out.
andy felt so bad, we made it real comfortable for him
i hope anyway. chelsea made a dash for that shit.
we called it.
i'm back in my room now, and it's real slow
mark went to bed. i don't have anyone to
share my soup with now.
i think he's coming to thanksgiving dinner
my mom loves him.
i like that.
i met his parents
his mom put two hands on my shoulders and she said
"you take care of my mark, he love you"
and i tried speaking to her
but she didn't speak much english
i really liked her anyway.
she looked warm
like a mother should.
like my mom,
i love my mom.
Author's Note: all in a friday night
Posted on 10/30/2004
Copyright © 2020 Lauren Singer
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Jim Benz on 08/16/07 at 02:46 PM|
what a lovely little stream of consciousness. I get the feeling you wrote it out quick and left it as is, but it has all the elements - life, meaning and joy - that makes poetry worth reading.