Would you be an outlaw for my love :: songs and poetry

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Keep Art Alive :: “Last Rights” :: Art by Kelly Haigh

The Miscalculations of Memory and Missing
(by me)

We used to sit on that big couch,
the ugly one,
brown and grey plaid,
cat tracks ripped up the sides,
candy bowls and favorite movies playing.
I miss that couch,
do you?

Those early mornings,
(or were they late nights),
eating Moose Tracks ice cream,
watching informercials,
making up stories about what we would do with all those things:
Ginzu knives,
party-pack CD’s,
Blow up furniture.
I miss those times,
do you?

When I was a child I wanted a remote control car,
something big and bright,
like a fire truck or a yellow crane.
Christmas morning I opened up all the packages,
all the same,
Barbies,
doll clothes;
I hated being a girl back then,
watching the boys race down the street with their buzz and whir,
GI-Joe army jeep.

I wish I had known you then,
you could have taught me to roar at the silvery moon,
how to paint my way out of the dead-end street we lived on.
We could have given so much to each other,
strong voices,
gangly legs and straggly haired beauty,
that would have been us.
We would have loved it,
loved who we were.

Now I am treading on a new kind of thin ice.
I have a new couch,
my knife set did not come with any “but wait…you also get” bonus prizes.
I can go out and buy that race car if I want,
but I am still not quite liking the girl I am,
or maybe I like me,
maybe it is my atmosphere,
the tin can echo in my skull,
the missing you that drowns out everything in me.

I miss you,
do you miss me?

Thirteen :: Big Star

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