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    Lost In Thought

    Page 5
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      Swear Barrier

      Out with a group of people

      That I don’t know very well

      Kind of cautious

      Kind of on edge

      To watch my mouth

      And what I’ve said

      And then someone breaks it

      Blows right through the norms

      Lets loose with a swear or two

      Like it was nothing

      And from that point on

      There’s no looking back

      The swear barrier has been broken

      Shattered in tatters on the floor

      It’s ok to say those words now

      The water’s been tested

      No one’s been offended

      So feel free to swear at will

      Let loose and say it all

      October 5, 2003

      Manchester, New Hampshire

      Kind of an unwritten thing with me. I will never be the first one to swear in a group of people I don’t know very well. Mostly out of politeness, but I also never want to offend someone who might find vulgarities offensive.

      Violated The Unspoken Rule

      Driving up I-95

      Into New Hampshire

      When I felt the need

      And it was then when

      I saw the rest stop

      So I pulled in and parked

      So I walked in and parked

      In front of the first one

      Along a long wall of porcelain

      I stood there staring

      Straight ahead at the tiny

      Tiny graffiti written in

      The grout in front of me

      Where someone wrote

      “Taco” in little letters

      Trying to figure out why

      When someone stood

      Right next to me

      Obviously not seeing

      The ten empty urinals

      Stretching down the wall

      Violating the unspoken rule

      Breaking the code we all

      Follow pretty basic it seems

      That we always leave an

      Empty one in between

      Maybe he wanted to read

      What I was reading

      Maybe he was just an idiot

      Who likes pissing

      Off other guys by violating

      The unspoken rules

      We all live by

      Either way I was happy

      To get back in my car

      And get back to driving

      October 6, 2003

      Manchester, New Hampshire

      This happened to me today while driving back from the Topsfield Fair and Newburyport.

     

      Putting On Wet Clothes

      I don’t want to

      Be here

      Be the one

      Dealing with you

      Anytime

      All the time

      In this situation

      Especially

      It’s as difficult as

      Putting on wet clothes

      Something you

      Don’t want to do

      All cards on the table

      It’s annoying

      It’s uncomfortable

      It’s grating

      Somewhat unstable

      It’s not for me

      I like my clothes

      Dry and warm

      Not cold and wet

      No use having a wet blanket

      Smothering smoldering

      The fire that I feel

      So if you don’t mind

      I’d like to toss you

      In the dryer and get on

      With the rest of my day

      October 13, 2003

      Manchester, New Hampshire

      Not really written about any one person or situation in particular. I was getting dressed today and I was thinking about washing clothes for some reason and I was slightly thankful that my clothes were dry. Then I started to think about how annoying and grating it is to put on wet clothes. That thought stuck with me for the rest of the day until I wrote this.

      Writing Is Life

      A sliver of slightly

      The tiniest twinges

      The smallest of smidgeons

      The nimblest nuances

      Of what I see

      Of what I observe

      Become the

      Piles of perfection

      Superfluous subdivisions

      Hugest of happenstance

      That I write

      That I get out

      Of the experience

      Since observing

      Becomes writing

      And writing is

      A reflection of life

      Therefore

      Writing is life

      October 19, 2003

      Manchester, New Hampshire

      I didn’t set out to make such a huge declaration with this poem. It was a random thought, which became more.

      Seasonal Lag

      Fully immersed in

      A sea of colors

      A week past their prime

      Fading and falling

      Paired with a crisp chill

      During the sunny days

      Lacking the warmth

      Despite the sun’s best efforts

      College kids are done

      With their midterms

      Autumn is half over

      And here I am

      As I always am

      Wondering what happened

      To that last season

      Where did it go

      Where was I

      When it said goodbye?

      Probably at work

      And the few times I find

      Myself free is when I find

      My world has changed

      Around me without telling me

      The last to know once again

      Finding myself fully entrenched

      In my usual

      And now predictable

      Seasonal lag

      October 20, 2003

      Methuen, Massachusetts

      Another poem that popped into my mind while eating lunch in the car.

      Small Town Strip Mall

      Small town strip mall

      With a parking lot made

      For a time when

      This was where everyone shopped

      A time before

      The modern stores

      Dug in a few miles away

      I sit here looking at

      A parking lot way too big

      Cars crisscrossing across

      I’m amazed no one hits each other

      In front of the one long continuous building

      Housing the second rate stores

      A nail salon on the left side

      With the blue and red neon

      Burning brightly in the twilight

      A dry cleaner aptly named Royal

      As if it could bring the missing elegance

      To this forgotten, forsaken place

      A pizza place known only in

      The New England area

      The kind of place with

      The kind of food that makes you

      Wonder why they’re still open

      A chain pharmacy store where

      You won’t be surprised to see

      The sign with the letter ‘P’

      That burnt out some time ago

      The big store in the middle

      Closed last spring, I think

      “Anchor away!” I say seeing

      The big empty spot in the

      Smack dab in the middle

      Then the generic liquor store

      With the non-descript sign

      Simply stating, Liquors

      Perfect for those shoppers

      Who are wishing to remain

      Anonymous, I’m guessing

      Then there’s the small local

      Bank that is one of a few

      Branches they have at all

      Followed by the low-end

      Supermarket that takes the word

      The word ‘super’ and exaggerates it

      Behin
    d me, across the large

      Empty parking lot is the

      McDonald’s which sits there

      Alone like it’s trying to

      Distance itself

      Further itself

      From the strip mall over there

      Because it’ll bruise or tarnish

      Ronald’s reputation or something

      I don’t like this place much

      But sadly, it’s in a good location

      And easy to get to so I continue

      To come here every once in a while

      October 21, 2003

      Methuen, Massachusetts

      I stopped to McDonald’s off of Exit 46 off of I-93 tonight for two, well, three reasons: I was hungry, I wanted more of the McDonald’s Monopoly game pieces, and the traffic was awful on I-93. After I ate I sat there for a few minutes, looked at the crappy strip mall, and pulled out my Palm Pilot, getting to work on this poem.

      Mind The Importance

      Trying to remember the thoughts

      That flowed so freely earlier today

      Like cheap crappy American beer

      At any conveniently located frat party

      Sitting here at the ready to write

      And take the cool words and phrases

      And run with them like I usually do

      At lunch there seemed to be more

      Ideas than lies at a good employee’s firing

      But stupid me I forgot to write them

      Forgot to record them

      Because I thought

      I could remember them

      Or actually didn’t think

      And that’s the problem

      I had trusted my mind

      To mind the importance

      Of the amazing lines

      That raced across

      So fleetingly

      And faded from

      The forefront by

      My wandering mind

      As I let unimportant things

      Get in the way of what

      I should have tried

      To dearly hold

      Onto tightly

      October 22, 2003

      Manchester, New Hampshire

      Heh. I can so totally tell where I got the idea to write the poem “Burning Question” because that’s when I lost the steam on this one. I left to write the other one and when I got back I was like “uhhh…what was I trying to say?” How appropriate that it happened on this of all poems.

      Lemon

      Feel the winter in this song

      Spinning disc thinks me back

      Winter in college

      Ten years now

      Contrasting elements

      The lemon of the song

      The summery citrusy it sings

      The snow of the outside

      The wintery chilly it brings

      Looking out the wide window

      Out onto Lower Lake

      Her roommate gone

      For the night

      For the weekend

      Just us after the fun

      Candles flicking low

      Her cutely asleep

      Me happily awake

      Looking at her then

      Looking at the pond

      And the winter that surrounds

      Into the distance at Mount Tom

      Noticing the silence that pervades

      The season, the selection that I’ve

      Chosen to look over and watch

      The wind blow lightly

      The trees sway slightly

      College lights brightly

      Burning all the while

      Knowing that it’s so

      Freezing out there

      And I’m in here

      Enjoying the difference

      And watching

      As the Five College bus

      Starts to interrupt and diesel its way

      Across campus

      Across my view

      It’s the last bus of the night

      And I’m not on it

      I’m here happy in the warmth

      Satiated with my being

      Happy with what I’m seeing

      Satisfied with everything

      Pristine perfect picture

      Playing through my mind

      This scene can never end

      And it never does

      Continually reliving

      Always replaying

      Every time I hear

      Lemon

      October 25, 2003

      Manchester, New Hampshire

      Very true. Whenever I hear the song “Lemon” by U2 it totally takes me back to a winter late night/early morning at Mount Holyoke College.

      Off In The Foggy Somewhere

      I’m so totally close to something big

      As to what, I have absolutely no idea

      Something huge lurking moving

      Off in the foggy somewhere

      Always close and ever present

      An idea that I need to latch onto

      Clutch tightly and never let go

      Waiting for it patiently

      Waiting for it hopefully and

      When the inevitable happens

      When it comes across my range

      When it comes within my sights

      When I see it

      I need to realize it

      I need to seize it

      I need to capture it

      I need to make it mine

      October 25, 2003

      Manchester, New Hampshire

      A random poem for a random night.

      Clifford Remains

      Institutions leaving

      That have been here

      For over 200 years

      Being bought out

      Being swallowed up

      By bigger companies

      From other places

      They don’t know

      About the history

      They don’t care

      About what we think

      In all of this

      I guess it’s just

      Dog-eat-dog

      Until only

      Clifford remains

      October 27, 2003

      Manchester, New Hampshire

      FleetBank was bought by Bank Of America today.

      Fulcrum

      The pivotal point

      On which everything

      Rests, turns,

      And is judged upon

      Is difficult to obtain

      Is hard to ascertain

      The specific moment

      As to when one

      Became the other

      When the future

      We looked forward to

      Became the a fond

      Memory in the past

      Everything in life

      Rests on one fulcrum

      After another

      When you’ve reached

      The very last one

      It’s time to step off

      It’s time to stop

      The ups and downs

      That life is made up of

      It’s time to stop

      Playing games with

      Each one kind of fun

      In it’s own right but now

      It’s time to say goodbye

      That you’re finally done

      October 27, 2003

      Manchester, New Hampshire

      I was walking out of my room and the word “fulcrum” popped into my mind so I ran back and wrote.

      Hedgehog Water Bottle

      Thought I heard a sound

      I haven’t heard in years –

      Hedgehog water bottle

      The metal on metal

      Click click clicking

      Fast like a machine gun

      Constantly without end

      But I was wrong I guess

      It was my brother

      In the other room

      Clicking on a mouse

      October 27, 2003

      Manchester, New Hampshire

      I could have sworn that I heard the familiar sound of a hedgehog drinking from a water bottle, but it was only Todd using his (loud) mouse
    in the other room.

      Simple Salsa Excursion

      Reaching in

      With a sturdy-looking chip

      My assumptions turn me

      Into that pre-warned ass

      As during the down stroke

      The crack cracks loudly

      The eyes open widely

      In amazed disbelief

      As I pull out to find

      Half the chip I sent in.

      Tipping the jar to see

      Where the rest might be

      The simple salsa excursion

      Becomes a rescue mission

      Needing to recover

      Wanting to get back

      That bottom half

      That lay stuck in

      The quagmire of

      Tomato and red.

      Lesser people would

      Have left it for dead

      Soggy at the bottom

      Of the jar, forgotten

      But I have experience

      And I have patience

      My years pitted against

      The jar before me

      I scoop, I rescue,

      And I win

      This time it went well

      What about the next time?

      Will it go so smoothly

      Or will my fingers

      Get kind of dirty

      As I have to reach in

      In order to pull out

      The rest of the chip

      October 28, 2003

      Manchester, New Hampshire

      I was eating cheap chips and the Desert Pepper Trading Company Black Bean Dip when a chip snapped. Since Salsa seemed to be the more normal accompaniment, I wrote about that instead.

      November

      30 Is The New 20

      Delayed adulthood

      30 is the new 20

      Showing how life

      Now isn’t so funny

      Grown up and living

      Back again at home

      Like some kind of infection

      Here for this generation

      Can’t afford to leave the nest

      Living with mom and dad

      Working, hoping for the best

      We know the economy is bad

      But seeing young professionals

      Living like high school is sad

      Asking mommy to

      Borrow money really

      Isn’t so funny when

      You’re almost thirty

      Too many of those in Gen X

      Have ended up regressed

      Socially and economically

      And it makes me wonder what’s next

      November 2, 2003

     


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