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when told to write about a color

by Eli Skipp


travis, but not his eyes, and andres and his eyes and lugging fifty lbs. to live off of from kansas city and back and the deep 200's of homestead and cleaning and rerigging the airboat and the inside of your pickup truck and when you borrow my lighter and i steal that hat i bought for you anyway and when i turn sideways in a mirror and call myself fat and you say "shush you're lovely," and those WWI gators he befriended me for and fishing in arcadia and picking a yarn and pomp and circumstance and showing up late and hiding the edge of my dress but not the start of my stockings and why the cops can't pull you over and moon rock and weed and sawgrass and shooting soda cans with the kind of gun only patriots buy and hiding my makeup and vitamins in ammo pouches and how your belt is a foot and a half too long and your bulgarian gasmask you wear sometimes to hide, and hiding in giant airplants and tearing off creeper moss and resurrection fern and skimming scum off the top of a pond made of cinderblocks and black tarp and steel canoes and wondering how far we can walk onto smoldering limestone and then he falls because he's stoned and the pants he wears everyday and that coat you bought for dirt cheap and the dress jacket you tried to tailor but just ended up making your shoulders broader and embroidery thread and conure feathers and tadpole water and a few numbers and driving alligator alley early in the morning and eating terrible food and a heaping bowl of peas and pea soup and le grenouille (the only part of new york like that) and fox's (where they also serve lukewarm green beans) and yvette (who knows chicago and warns about windy corners) and the weft of his scarf (which he paid too much for but which matches his irises which are too close together anyway) and certain types of chips and snacks (especially the kind flavored with spinach and kale) and mr. wallach (who moved to rhode island when his mother was dying but who taught me how to garden and why did we write historical fiction anyway?) and that shirt dad wore when he went to churchill's with you.

12/19/2007

Posted on 12/19/2007
Copyright © 2024 Eli Skipp

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Meghan Helmich on 08/28/08 at 02:18 PM

green!

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