Long Gone

Sometimes, when I can’t relax, I drag my subconscious
into my town’s rolling fields
and stretch out, feet first above the clouds,
singing and dancing. I close my eyes.
Somewhere below me a rosy cheeked child tastes her first spoonful
of Swal’s cookie explosion ice cream. I open my soul
and let my body soak in the sun at Heritage;
swinging branches ripple across my mind, a low lying doe
dashing across my thoughts, falling back, suspended I know I am close.
The memories burn as years replay.
I think of reentering that atmosphere;
my long, burning past.

-KA

Where I’m From

I am from tie-dyed shirts,
from guitar strings and picket signs.
I am from the beer stained floor of The Pyramid Club
(sweat pouring
from the musicians who played).

I am from the lilac bush,
the cherry blossoms
whose sweet aroma I still smell,
as if I were standing beneath it now

I am from pop music and boy bands;
from bedazzlers.

I’m from Miss Mary Mac and Hanky Panky;
from pleases and thank yous.

I’m from self discovery and no God
and Sunday school sessions I hated.

I’m from Rosario and Dawn’s branch;
from Mrs. Veezo’s and banana bread.

From the big tree where I was young
and the heated games of touch football
between the neighborhood kids took place;
on shimmering blacktop
sparkling with the screams of children;
the laugh of moms and dads who watch
and the occasional cries of anguish
as someone dropped the ball.

I am those moments;
a dropped ball in the end zone
between the yellow house and the street light;
the sweet sound of laughter and
the sun that shines.

-KA