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I can remember

I can remember
The bonfire in my backyard
With half of Annapolis. Severna Park, AND Cape St. Clare there.
Because it was “the little Italian girl’s” birthday.

I can remember
Hiding on the rotting wooden dock with Big Ol’
Vince (he was making sure that no parents came, remember?)
And Chris, And Max, And John, And You.
Catching tadpoles in the dark,
And wearing my grimy, fraying, overalls,
Because dresses just aren’t practical.
And there was just too many people
Pinching my cheek,
Saying “Cocca Di Papa”
So I took a small break.
And fell in the water.

I was the mud monster for a matter of minutes
Before getting cleaned off.
With a hose.
And we couldn’t stop laughing
And none of us could remember why.
And I was eight years old.
(that was five years ago, Colin)

And I remember
When I was mad at Tommy
And arguing,
And he called John a coward
For getting sick
(but I think Tommy was just sad, because he missed being friends with John)
And I got mad at him fun of John,
And I attacked him.
And then he called me a word that you said was “unfit for a lady to hear”
And Max tried to kill him.
And you had to drag him off,
Even though you wanted to kill him yourself for calling me that word.(you said so afterwards, when we talked about it, remember?)
And I demonstrated Tommy’s face, when I shoved him to the ground, right before I punched him, just the way Big Ol’ Vince taught us to punch.
And we couldn’t stop laughing
And none of us could remember why.
And I was ten years old.
(that was three years ago, Colin.)


And I remember
Learning to drive stick shift with Matty.
And you were there, in the backseat.
And you were congratulating me,
Because I only stalled out twice.
And I remember starting to laugh,
Because I stalled out again,
And continued to do so.
And couldn’t stop,
And Matty’s Coke went all over his lap.
And then I almost killed the cow.
And we couldn’t stop laughing.
And none of us could remember why.
And I was twelve years old.
( that was 4 months ago, Colin)

And I remember
Getting furious
Because I couldn’t come to your funeral.
And then calling Max and Chris.
And they were saying something about
How we were so immature
And stupid
And why did we ever do those things,
And they regret them.
Except, adds max,
Beating up Tommy.
And I slammed the phone down,
Because I didn’t want to hear any more.
And none of us were laughing.
(That was last month, Colin)
What happened in four months?
(You got hit by a car, remember?)
But as you say,
We’ll make up.
We always do.




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This article has 4 comments. Post your own!

iDogrocker said...
Jul. 22, 2010 at 5:30 pm:
I like the recurring theme of remembrance in this poem. It's very compelling. 
 
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gymbabe This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jul. 18, 2010 at 12:58 am:
That was just...heart-rending.  I know who Colin is from your previous work, and you really honor him.  Beautiful
 
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mudpuppy said...
Jul. 17, 2010 at 6:31 pm:
I almost cried when I read this, you have a good way of putting emotion into your work.
 
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A_Dreamer said...
Jul. 14, 2010 at 6:37 pm:

I like it, but I think this would be better as a story. That way, maybe you'd be able to describe more, for example: who are Max, Chris, and Colin?

 

But I like the story told in this poem. :)

 
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