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Memories In Your Own Aquarium


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You
----gaze into that picturesque world, crouched
besides the now soggy New York Times, your father's daily breakfast companion...
----thanks to that Poland Spring you just spilled. It
stares back at you with your own
----chapstick lips and acnes underneath Proactiv cheeks. You hesitate,
the time you went skinny dipping with a man who had a set of cute dimples,
----whose name you couldn't remember, at two past midnight...now you trespass into your
bubble aquarium, as if in a guerilla attack on Mrs.Miller's cat, who's
----hobby included doing unspeakable things to the daffodils on your front lawn. You
remember...waiting for the salt between your toes
----to bake in the sun before that Spring's first thunderstorm, and you
grasp for the sands of Howard Beach that now tickle
----your memory and make your scalp itch with nostalgia...Your cichlids start
to jut their dainty fins, the fond memories of the time
----your cousin Nelle did a catwalk down Gordon Road for all the guys to see...You
feel them tingle your palm...remember how your parrot
----Colonel Bubba, who quite often bursts your bubbles, tried to
wake you up with his "Shoot her one more time, baby", after you fell
----asleep on your carpet floor, the night of your awful second date?...They
smooch the neat scar on your index finger...it was that night when you tried to
----fillet a tilapia for dinner to impress your mother-in-law that you got the nasty cut...Your
hands dangle in the bath of imaginary soap bubbles which
----used to be as real as your obsession with rice pudding and which you used to
make in your backyard with your best friend Lou-Ellis who now
----lives across the ocean on the other side of the world...



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This article has 2 comments. Post your own!

Cougar said...
May 31, 2009 at 3:05 pm:
I like the new one, but the original is really good, too. You're very good at nailing imagery in your poems. Keep it up! You're a great poet! :)
 
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ZeeZee said...
Nov. 21, 2008 at 3:26 am:
Hi guys, it's me ZiXiang, since sending in this poem, i've made changes to some imageries and structure, please tell me which one you like better: this one or the original.
-----

You gaze into that picturesque world, crouched
besides the now soggy New York Times
your father's daily breakfast companion...
thanks to that Poland Spring you just spilled. It
stares back at you through glossy covers, with your own
chapstick lips and acnes beneath Proact... (more »)
 
Reply to this comment Post a new comment
 
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