t/w: death-related language
for the man who waits outside his home while the sun is rising
in a town too small for him to have a proper bus stop
but too large for him not to have a bus
waiting for him at 6:42 A.M. on Gladys Avenue
when i pass him by on the way to school and wonder
why doesn’t he have headphones on?
for the highways that have been under construction since summer #1
cracked roads and mismatched paint jobs winding and weaving
throughout this living, breathing, wheezing, choking city
until it reaches those dead driveways and
dead drivers driving dead cars with dead eyes—
—for these dead downtown streets
ephemeral splashes of shimmering streamers and sunlight
blindingly bright until they shut off at 11:00 P.M.
so everyone drives safely home. Thanks for coming, see you soon!
leaving the unmarked parking lots cold and empty
does a parking lot have a warm household to return to?
for that exit off the highway on my way home from piano lessons
turning left more than i need to so i don’t intrude in the second lane
streets that feel so infinite and wide at 1:34 A.M.
when i feel like nothing even matters
except for End of Beginning blasting on the speakers
of this beat-up old sedan i’ll never see again
in this city i love and hate, hate and love
dreaming of disappearing into the night
as i drive home from homecoming
(then where is my home, really?)
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Canary word: Present
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125,027 Literary Works • 672,773 Reviews
Dunno why but this poem makes me feel homesick for the city I lived in as a kid. It's so oddly poetic how curious children are about everything and this poem feels like someone who had outgrown that child, but not entirely, because they still see the places with the unchanged wonder. I love the way you describe the places, it immediately creates a vivid image and striking feelings. Honestly, I have nothing to complain about, this piece is simply spectacular and the theme is fairly unique.
Keep writing ^^
hey there!
I really enjoy this! It has a very suburban, liminal feeling. It reminds me a lot of feeling homesick, driving through a city that raised me while also making me feel incredibly detached. That’s a GREAT feeling to create with poetry, especially like this!
The first stanza is very strong, to me, because it begins with a person but refuses to over-explain said person. The man waiting outside his home becomes a kind of emblem for the town’s contradictions - that captures the awkward scale of suburban life perfectly, since it's really banal at its core; not rural enough to be fully abandoned, but it's also not urban enough to be convenient. The man’s silence becomes mysterious because the narrator's own life is so tied to movement, school, music, interior escape. I like that it characterizes the narrator's generation, or at least their way of being alone. I found that VERY effective!
Though, the dead repetition in "dead driveways and / dead drivers driving dead cars with dead eyes" is conceptually clear but heavy-handed. I understand the intended numbness (suburbia as automobility without life, everyone driving but no one arriving anywhere meaningful), but the repetition flattens the image. I do like the turn to more civic imagery, but because everything becomes dead at once, the reader has less room to discover the deadness through detail -> you might only need two “'dead"s instead of five, or you might let one image do more of the work. For example, a driveway with weeds through the cracks or a driver’s face lit blue at a red light could make the same point with more precision / intrigue.
I really like "turning left more than i need to so i don’t intrude in the second lane" line as well. I thought that it shows an apologetic relationship to space that the narrator has; they are trying not to take up too much room, even on a road. That detail deepens the poem’s theme as far as belonging goes. The city may be too wide, too empty, too half-built, but the narrator still worries about intruding. That's a really interesting take on an idea that I see a lot!
^ Also felt the time stamps throughout the poem also work well (6:42 A.M., 11:00 P.M., 1:34 A.M.). I like how they create a day-cycle structure without announcing one, so that the poem becomes less about one place than about what the place feels like at different hours. I do think the specificity is a major strength because it resists generic nostalgia, as I think it's easy to be consumed by nostalgia / your feelings. A lot of poems about hometowns become vague, but this one gives us exact times, named avenues, musical references, turning habits, etc. I figured that made the narrative feel more coherent and "credible," in a way.
BUT I do think the poem could benefit from tightening in a few spots. For example, "cracked roads and mismatched paint jobs winding and weaving / throughout this living, breathing, wheezing, choking city" has a nice sound, but "winding and weaving" plus the four-part city description creates a lot of alliterative / musical density in one place. It works, but it is very aware of itself, if that makes sense. I'd say your voice is strongest when the language is emotional but still casual.
Anyways, I thought this was a very strong poem! I liked how it repurposed hometowns as being separated routes rather than simply places / people you'll miss over time. nicely done!
best,
cocteau