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Tag Archives: Poetry

Childhood

Childhood

I know of a place.
A place where the wind
breathes The Beach Boy’s
Kokomo.
Where jet-black storm
clouds threaten
the horizon.
But never rain.
Where the aroma of
wet alfalfa clings to
nostrils.
Where a dozen
Collie puppies bark
pure
happiness.
Where kids leap from
car bumper to hoop rim
and get yelled at.
Again.
Where dad stumbles home
at sunrise and
it’s Wednesday morning.
Again.

Posted 08 June 2009 † T.R. Wolfe § Creative Writing ‡ Comments ° Also tagged:

Dear John

Dear John

You are the one on the far left.
You are the one sitting lower than the others.
You look completely alone.
And not for that reason do I always choose you.
You are always the cleanest one.
Because the man-code says you can’t be used,
only if you’re the only open one.
But today, you have two strands of pubic hair
on [...]

Posted 08 June 2009 † T.R. Wolfe § Creative Writing ‡ Comments ° Also tagged: