stargirl burns down the room

by Gabriel Ricard

They have come from places,
decades and even traveling shows
that just don’t exist anymore.
It’s impossible to know where you are
from one lifetime to the next.

I haven’t thrown any of them away.
Every single postcard has been a treasure,
and I wonder how they even reach me
when I’m doing a little wandering of my own.

Who knows if you’re even alive?

You were stubborn about what time we went grocery-shopping,
so it’s not like your voice couldn’t pick up the pace,
if your heart suddenly suffered two or more broken legs.

I believe anything is possible
(amen, humbug and good bloody riddance).
Cannon-balls of light occasionally fly around my bedroom,
and I think I’ve actually been able to reach out and grab it
once or twice.

All kinds of weirdness has taken
common-sense science by the throat these days.

The sky has reportedly fallen in certain parts of the world.
Mythological gods and man-made monsters exist and have driver’s licenses.
Serial killers become sheriffs and hold weekend-long conventions in Georgia.
Children make more money in therapy than I do on the road.

Somewhere in all that,
you could have passed away,
and then decided you didn’t care very much for the experience.

Whatever the case may be
I’m shamed by the attention. I fall in love all the time,
but I rarely get my heart broken. It’s impossible not to be
at least a little smitten with someone who draws both of those things
from me and leaves nothing but the writing on the wall
(five stanzas brave and true)
and a phonebook full of aliases.

No one can say we don’t know
how to buy into the weekend fireworks on Monday,
because we can’t stand to say goodbye.

Troublemakers come and go.
I faced that notion years back,
and live on
in spite of never coming to complete terms with it.

What I dig are the people
who can simultaneously borrow a pint of my blood
and save my soul between two and four p.m.

You hit the top of that list like only a humble legend could.
I almost hope I never see you again.


Posted on 07/08/2011
Copyright © 2022 Gabriel Ricard

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kate Zimmerman on 07/08/11 at 11:05 PM

"Somewhere in all that, you could have passed away, and then decided you didn’t care very much for the experience." Brilliant

Posted by Timothy Wilson on 07/09/11 at 06:32 PM


Posted by Ava Blu on 07/10/11 at 08:43 PM

The stargirl always burns everything down. Be wary of her.

Posted by Gregory R Schelske on 07/22/11 at 09:41 PM

Sheesh. Just plain cool. This piece is the Johnny Depp of poetry; the Marlon Brando (young version) of song; it is the Fonzie of verse.

Posted by Bertram Sparagmos on 10/04/12 at 06:40 PM

Whenever I read your poems I want to keep tempo on a drum set and smoke a cigar. It's like an improvisational jazz song.

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