A glossy photograph with eyes
scraped clean with black ballpoint.
Anger and pressure,
strokes of lines—
straight and circular—
penetrate white paper,
bringing it to the fore,
dehumanizing its former owner of its
over the smiling figure pictured next to it,
The Drop Off
your sex trapped me.
My fresh curls could not
compete with you aged mounds
of flesh I did not desire.
The fruity bubble gum should
have told me all:
the sickly melon perfumed
my car, ate at my stomach,
eroding my alliance,
down to a sugary decay of
falsehood and cunning.
Thinking nothing of sticky fly traps,
I shared my soda and
Instead of cookies, you offered love
and, of course, your sex
as the sugar started to saturate,
The friend you left behind --
not the one that offered you a ride,
the one you had in me--
dashed off her fears and turned the key.
Sweetly, I spurned your desires,
but with all the sugar everything
I dropped off your unfulfilled
desires at your doorstop.
You will come to me again,
but I will not be there.
IÕve thrown away all of my candy.
The lead guitaristÕs butterfly collar
framed the half opened polyester shirt
exposing the sable chest hair that
matched his fuzzy head.
Shiny silver dress slit high
up the lead singerÕs
thigh as she begins
her scorching rendition
of Gloria Gaynor.
I will survive
Oh, as long as I know É
It reminds of my motherÕs obsession with
All oldies – all of the time
Songs that tormented my youth
with a quick rotation of the radio dial.
Love, love me doÉ
The lyrics of one Beatles song or another—
As I sat watching the misfit 70Õs band
leave the stage at the dive bar of my college existence
where I often drank after creative writing workshops—
sometimes more than others, sometimes harder than others—
the thoughts of the funky polyester pants dissipate
and memories of my motherÕs radio fade
giving way to another time when I was young,
and Duran DuranÕs ÒThe ReflexÓ
made everything seem so much easier.
© Jennifer L. Smith
Bio: Jennifer L. Smith lives in Eagle River, Alaska. Her work has recently appeared in Cirque, Yellow Chair Review, and Peeking Cat Poetry. See more of her work at jlsmithwrites.com.