Eye Contact

A battered bike leans
against the wall. Inside
Nobody clanks coins
on the drugstore counter,
a cold unopened beer in hand.

I clamor for blue
Gatorade with not much
time before my son’s
Taekwondo class ends.

Nobody
can't talk straight,
and the teenage boy
rings her up,
rank with fear.
I see it in his eyes-
an uncertainty his lack of contact
with the customer reveals.

Just today I reminded my son
to look adults in the eyes
when speaking, out of respect.
We wouldn't want them to mis-
construe the truth, think him miscreant.

When I leave the store, Nobody’s
bike waits beside my van. She
scrounges through Something
for What?
I freeze, wonder
what’s in that bag she has.

Is this the end?

I avoid her eyes, walk with
purpose, hop inside
faster than a blink.

It kills me
we must live
this way, but I
survive. This time.

*

Prompt inspiration: Imaginary Gardens- A Word with Laurie (miscreant)

Chasing Dreams

Regret shoved me into dusty corners
a shadow trapped in sticky cobwebs
where I dwelt on what might have been
if only I'd followed my heart.

Past mistakes made me homesick
left me crying like a freshman in August
after being abandoned at the college dorm
feeling like a mismatched china plate

and although home wasn't the most stable place for me
I longed for it because it was better than where I was
alone in a golden castle writing letters I never sent
reading them over and over while listening to our song.

I had watched you drive away without a backward glance
after drawing a map leading south and cramming it down your throat.
Now I'm sitting in the corner chasing homemade apple pie dreams
hoping for a scoop of vanilla to melt away the pain.

@laurie kolp


Poem inspired by Michael Buble's song, Home. Click here to view the You Tube video.

Prompt inspiration: Poetry Jam