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canadian films about airports

by Gabriel Ricard

Let’s just say I cut myself shaving,
and that I fell down the stairs,
because I’m clumsy for exactly fifteen minutes
every afternoon.

She put a hand on my arm,
and that was the act of trading youth for perspective
as she asked me if I wanted to hit the last party in town.

I had cabdrivers gunning for the bones in my fingers,
so I was eager to disappear for a while,
and I didn’t give two or even three damns
for what I knew of this young lady’s reputation.

The all-star variety show
goes on a laughingstock summer hiatus.
It’s at the exact moment I realize,
that someone who came very close to being my ex-wife
slept with the three other cats in the getaway car.

Where do I meet these broads?

Don’t answer that.

Don’t answer any questions,
I might ask while looking for the city of Asian angels
through the cracks in the sidewalk.

Don’t ask any questions,
when I’m busy getting half the words right
to a song, that’s not necessarily my favorite,
but will have to do in a pinch.

I’m just stressed out.
It’s been do-or-sort-of-die,
since the day she wore that dress
to the dancehall disaster,
of what I think was either 1958 or 2009.

That doesn’t make sense,
I know,
so let’s just say smokers fear time
differently from the well-adjusted.

Give me the rest of my life
to sort everything out,
and make millions
turning in my old friends
and classic haunts.

Wait for me to come back
from that last party.
Or the kind of police station
where people like me sit quietly,
smoke noisily and read comic books
until the end of time’s version of an Elvis impersonator.

Keep me in your heart,
or just keep me from calling up old girlfriends.

I can’t drive,
and I’ll never be a handsome hero,
so I may need you to drive me to the airport.

I’ll definitely need you to hold my hand,
because I can’t handle the stress and save my money
at the same time.





09/19/2011

Author's Note: Certain concepts and images are going to obsess my writing forever and ever. I hope you don't mind the repetition.

Posted on 09/19/2011
Copyright © 2024 Gabriel Ricard

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Meghan Helmich on 09/20/11 at 01:14 AM

I don't mind at all.

Posted by Ken Harnisch on 09/20/11 at 12:38 PM

"Keep me in your heart, or just keep me from calling up old girlfriends." invariably, as I contemplate a Ricard masterpiece, certain lines will hit to the bone. This time, it was this one.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 09/22/11 at 04:36 PM

Same thing for YOW (Ottawa). So let’s just say smokers fear time differently from the well-adjusted...so true! LOL! Another good'un Gabriel.

Posted by David Maurice on 10/01/11 at 02:24 AM

why broads? I love the self-narration, the goings through of a head in motion.

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