Sunday, March 29, 2009

402. Poem "Tipped Over Winnetka"

My green car tipped over Wittetka
and I looked to the fire-coated mountains
of southern California
in comfort with Fiona Apple,
"If you don't have a song to sing,
you're okay,
you know how to get along humming..."
And instead I shattered tears,
face red.
The bell was rung.
There was no going back.
I realized I lost my grandfather.


Victoria said...

It's just one of those moments in my life that hold an uncanny degree of precision and accuracy. As if your mind hits the record and edit button to revisit this moment in your life time and time again. In moments of great tragedy and joy....

stokastika said...

"Humming" perhaps my whole body was humming, convulsing. Instead, I burst into tears, shrieking, moaning instead of humming.