Sunday, October 12, 2014

Poem: Busy Street


Here's another poem I wrote during my first month of college for my creative writing class. I can tell by the first couple of lines I had U2s, Stay, So Faraway So Close, in my head, but after that I found my own tune with tons of imagery which my teacher appreciated. I think this particular poem could promote some good discussion about it's meaning and what the central character is actually doing.

9/27/94


BUSY STREET
INTERSECTION
YOU PULL IN
CROWDED THEATRE
SITTING ALONE
STANDING, SHOUTING FIRE
PEOPLE FLOODING EXITS
BUT YOU STAY TO WATCH THE SHOW
THE POPCORN UNDER THE SEAT
IS FROZEN COLD
BLOOD IS RUNNING, SURROUNDING YOUR TOES
THROUGH THE BLAZE
YOU FIND LOOSE CHANGE
YOU PURCHASE MORE CANDIES
YOU LEAVE AS IF THE BLAZE WAS THE SPILT SODA
YOUR RETURN STICKS TO YOUR FEET
THE BLOOD IS FROZEN SOLID
PEOPLE ARE RUNNING, YELLING
YOUR NAME IS IN THE CREDITS
THAT YOU PAID FIVE DOLLARS TO SEE
THE NAMES OF THE VICTIMS FLOW BY
WATER FALLS FROM YOUR CROWN
RUSTY NAILS ARE BITTEN THROUGH
YOUR SEAT WAS MADE OF COTTEN
BUT THE DROUGHT WASHED EVERYTHING AWAY
THE DOUBLE DOORS ARE CLOSED
LOCKED IN 
ASHES TO ASHES
NO MORE STICK
RUNNING BLOOD IN THE HALLWAY
PEOPLE HAVE RETURNED
TO SEE WHAT THEY MISSED
EVERYTHING THAT WAS
IS HAPPENING ON THE SCREEN
THE MAN IN FRONT ALONE
IS STANDING
HE YELLS FIRE
AND YOU ARE IN YOUR CAR

R.S. GRAYBILL

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