Saturday, June 20, 2009

439. Adventure Poem "Sparky and the Bean" with the Theme of Loss and Regain of Pettiness

Sparky and the Bean

Dirty ol'
walmart dog,
you could only tell
by his dark blue
signature bowtie
made in China
I'm sure--
this cute stubby dalmation
cream of
a demented, deformed
crop of fuzz
perched on a table
as "display dog"
at the megastore front
where strange people
like myself
fill out credit card forms
and in return
receive a free toy--
Oh! I didn't know
free things could grow
so rooted, burled
in my miniature realm
of embellishment!


you were with me,
five long, long years--
rough estimate!--
and it was all about
Sparky and Bugsy
(the yardsale ladybug)--
we had the best
and worst
of times--
you both were
my car adventure buddies,
my bedtime hugs,
and you were ALWAYS
there for me
when all the other
fickle people
my stuffed polyester
who did not pee
nor poop
and you came alive
whenever my dreams
willed you to--
much better indeed
than those "real"
pestly pets!--

I do not know
how you came
to be lost
in the anonymous sheets
of a rushed-out Motel 6
never to be sighted
School drowned my brain
piled higher and deeper--
I never had a chance
to mourn
till now,
half-year later.

And alas!
In Turbulence of Uncertainty,
Sparky was the last
micro-sentiment I could
afford to lose
to collapse of bonds--

until I fell recipient
to the curse of Neighbor Natalie--
"Why Victoria,
you are such a pretty girl
why do you always hide
in your beanie?"
Questioning my
oversized brown beanie?
--The Bean?!!--
99 cents
from the 99 cents store,
with me,
for five years--roughly--
of rapid change,
innerouter evolution?--
I used to wrap Sparky
in my Bean--
it's now worth
5 dollars
or 50.

My beanie's the crutch!
For everyone
draws attention to themselves
while I like to hide behind
my hermit crab

helmet beanie,
my little shell,
so I can blend in the backdrop,
observe through jittery eyes,
and see the World
without the World seeing me
I did not wear shades--
like everyone else--
I Wore Beanie.

Yet, I do not
believe in magic,
voodoo mysticism,
but at the end
of an ordinary jog,
the hour
prof advisor meeting--
the day
after the curse
of Neighbor Natalie--
the Bean elevated
to Disappearance
in the folds
of my abyssal car?
floating, skooting along
in the seabreeze
in the Somewhere of
Ghosttown Isla Vista?

My afternoonish evening
as I frantically retraced,
backtracked my distraught moves,
rendering empty-handed
in data hunt,
nevertheless concerned--
if anyone took this Bean
and used it for themselves,
I would be sincerely
even worried
for this new owner--
then again
all seems recycled
in this town--
so I carelessly romped
through five different stores--
there are no beanies
hanging in June--
Anxiety grabbed a gnarly
San Francisco fisher hat
from Alpha Thrift--
wasted 3 bucks,
for it fit well
but appeared horrid--
what brash decisions,
"You don't want to
settle for second best,"
advised Jules.
"I've known you
long enough to know
your beanie's your
body part."
I lay listless
limp in the car
calmed, slowed
by his gentle counsel.

"Sparky and the Bean
are on their new lives now.
You had a grand time.
But it's a new chapter
in your life,"
chimed in wise Jules.

"Face it, Victoria.
You molted.
It's time to find
or grow a new shell

"It was the
Sparky and the Bean years,
and now it's the new you."

I wailed,
"Oh Jules!
But I dont feel new.
I feel stagnant.
I have accomplished
the last four days.
How could I have

"You'll see,"
Jules' telepathic smile
from the cell phone.
"I can't wait to see ya

The end-click
left me innerly
tender, uncooked,
dainty fragile,
most certainly
to discover
my gestalt
is the summation
of magnified micro-sentiments,
affairs of self-construed
animate inanimates
still managing
to slip through my
stringent (?) (ha!)

Am I a byproduct
of immense
outwardly pettiness?

Aren't we all?!

Oh, oh!
Harsh brute Martin
reemed me "Get Over It"
mercilessly tattooed
on my forehead
as Jules coaxed,
"I'll understand
if it lingers
for a while."

Oh, please to meet
the newly-carved
Territory of
Replacement Anxiety.
Welcome Tooty,
the brand new
yellow beanie baby
yard sale elephant
who speaks True
through her
gestures, tones,
amplitudes, pace of voice
with mere persistent
utterance of
one mere phrase--
She jives well
with Bugsy,

bestest of friends,
and she is a
superb guardian
of my one-leveled
Goletan floorbed.

Jules explained,
"When the family dog dies,
many people buy a puppy.
You mourn through loss,
but one day you will wake up
and you realize you have
yourself a new dog!"

I'm already fixed
with care,
half-years have
passed well.

And now?
At last resort,
I succumbed,
fell victim to
my second tier beanie,
smaller camo green
hidden in my
car trunk crevice
from that same Upland
99 cent store
of 5 or so years ago.
Karl my housemate declared--
"Same style.
No difference.
It works."

Pragmatism over
shall do for now.
of trauma
still flutter
with my

Maybe one day
I will feel new.

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