Poetry Drawer: Adolescence: She Was Eighty Seven When She Died: Whatever Happened to Freeform Radio: On a Stretch of Arizona Highway: The Carved Giraffe by John Grey

Adolescence

Despite his friends’ warnings,
he fell in love with a red-haired girl.
He took his feelings outside in the open,
beat up a kid who said she had cooties.
And was suspended from high school for his troubles.

The red-haired girl is in tears
is at the funeral of her grandmother.
The old woman’s hair was also red
before it went white.
A kid was sent home for defending her honour.
But the news hasn’t reached her yet.
Besides, she’s moved beyond the awkward years.
She’s staring at the end of life.

She Was Eighty Seven When She Died

There’s a walk-in closet
It’s empty within.
Stale perfume flutters out
like the wings of a moth.

The four-poster bed
leans to one side.
The comforter is faded.
The pillow cases yellowed.

A small cameo
with a rusty pin
rests on a lace doily
atop a dressing table.

It’s watched over by
a black and white photograph
of a young woman
in theatrical dress,
her face half-bleached.

The room struggles
to be who she was
but the hug,
the kiss on the cheek,
are missing.

And more than that,
it doesn’t even know I’m here.

Whatever Happened To Freeform Radio

Driving through the Midwest,
I’m struggling to find a radio station
that isn’t talkback,
or isn’t programmed by accountants
or country or religion
or doesn’t play the same songs
over and over.

But, on a straight road,
across a flat land,
every station is straight and flat.

On a Stretch of Arizona Highway

Behind the wheel,
straight ahead,
sixty miles an hour,
I see myself
there in the distance,
as far as the heat haze
that blurs the foot of the mountains,
until, somewhere in that purple crag,
I disappear completely.

The Carved Giraffe

Should I buy the carved giraffe?
It will impress the folks back home
that we have indeed been to Africa.
And the workmanship is adequate.

Sure everyone in the marketplace is selling
the same rhinos, elephants, buffalo and zebras.

But I don’t see the words ‘Made In China’ anywhere.
And I did look. This really is African wood.
So should I buy the carved giraffe?
Two continents await my answer.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, Leaves On Pages and Memory Outside The Head, and Guest of Myself are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Ellipsis, Blueline and International Poetry Review.

You can find more of John’s work here on Ink Pantry.

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