Jalopy
by 
Mickey
|
Posted: Monday, September 4, 2017 Word Count: 205 Summary: Contrary to what I’ve said before about ‘knocking out’ a poem quickly, I’ve tried for years to get this one to work. I’ve tried different formats and line breaks but this seems to be the nearest I can get to the irrational emotional panic that I am trying to convey. I am probably trying to get a too sophisticated and structured rhyming scheme into it than I am capable of, and I should have dumped it ages ago, but I was pleased with the storyline (if that makes sense?) |
Version 2
I’m sitting here now in our old jalopy
looking out of the window straight ahead
and remembering how, when we felt soppy,
we used to watch the sun go down
and kiss by the light of the moon instead
in that woodland car park
overlooking the town
I’m wondering if you still remember
the way that we both laughed till we cried
at that pollen-laden honey bee
staggering along the wiper blade?
And how we wondered whether he
would ever get back to the nuptial hive
and get his precious honey laid?
Or the time that you were so annoyed
when wind through your side window
had spoilt your hair and I had laughed?
You said that you had felt betrayed
I thought your annoyance had long since passed.
But now you’ve gone and there’s only me,
I still have the car, but there’s only one key.
So here I sit but, unlike before,
the offending windows are tightly closed.
Our woodland excursions will be no more
now you tell me your feelings have run their course.
So, I’m staring instead at the closed garage door
and hoping that you wouldn’t be too opposed,
to the gap for the hosepipe from the exhaust?
I’m sitting here now in our old jalopy
looking out of the window straight ahead
and remembering how, when we felt soppy,
we used to watch the sun go down
and kiss by the light of the moon instead
in that woodland car park
overlooking the town
I’m wondering if you still remember
the way that we both laughed till we cried
at that pollen-laden honey bee
staggering along the wiper blade?
And how we wondered whether he
would ever get back to the nuptial hive
and get his precious honey laid?
Or the time that you were so annoyed
when wind through your side window
had spoilt your hair and I had laughed?
You said that you had felt betrayed
I thought your annoyance had long since passed.
But now you’ve gone and there’s only me,
I still have the car, but there’s only one key.
So here I sit but, unlike before,
the offending windows are tightly closed.
Our woodland excursions will be no more
now you tell me your feelings have run their course.
So, I’m staring instead at the closed garage door
and hoping that you wouldn’t be too opposed,
to the gap for the hosepipe from the exhaust?