Saturday, August 9, 2014

MemoryBlurs - Part 1

"Life goes by so fast
You only want to do what you think is right.
Close your eyes and then it's past;
Story of my life"

-- Social Distortion, Story of My Life

I turn 3 years old.

White-blond hair and a rainbow striped shirt.
My mother's technicolor smile.

I turn 6 years old.

A green tricycle with a small orange reflector sticker,
rumbling down the sidewalk in Rockville Centre.

I turn 8 years old.

Next to the jade chess set, a china dish of multi-colored crystal sugar,
No one sees me lick my index finger and dip it in.

I turn 9 years old.

A menagerie of glass creatures, kiss them all goodnight,
The whole house smells like kasha in the morning, as I shuffle down the stairs.
You had to be quick, or the birds would eat the cherries.
But it didn't matter. The cherry tree in the front yard was great for climbing.
My hands grip dark bark branches.

I turn 11 years old.

I walk Heather every day after school; Carolyn Landes' dog, a Westie.
We talk for a while in her kitchen, a linoleum floor
She pushes a crisp dollar bill into my hand
After Mrs. Landes died, I kept walking the dog, but Mr. Landes, he was quiet.

I turn 12 years old.

My skateboard is orange and black, and it wobbles as I begin the downhill.
Wobbles become violent shakes, and I don't have a chance.
The asphalt burns my elbows and knees.

I turn 15 years old.

The Doors on the giant screen;
popcorn and sticky floors, and we're in the back row
She tastes like cigarettes and cinammon chewing gum.

I turn 17 years old.

Salted beach air through open windows.
"Jane says she's done with Sergio;
only knows when someone wants her."
Waves crash in darkness, cold sand, bare feet.

I turn 18 years old.

She sways. Her body wriggles to the music.
Closer and closer. She presses her body against mine.
I'm confused.
Her lips brush my neck.
I tingle.

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