I remember her name, of course, and the name of the fellow who hosted the party in Boston's South End. The New Year's Eve in question must have been around 1990 or 1991.




What Didn't Happen

Remembering the earthy-crunchy tie-dye girl from high-school
Last seen at a New Year's Eve party nearly thirty years ago:
Plain, long-haired, gregarious, and how I wanted to kiss her.

 

She walked from room to room, barefoot and carefree,
Inebriate on nothing more than the happy atmosphere:
I marvelled at her naturalness, her at-home-ness with herself.

 

She had brown eyes, and skin of a tentative brown:
Not the deep rich brown of the lively and fertile earth,
But the brown of half-lit rooms in a Dickinsonian winter.

 

Her smile was something fresh and rare, like sudden snow
In May, a blossom of white amid the full-grown lilacs,
A friendly salutation from a stranger on the MBTA.

 

To be candid and awkward, I was enraptured by her toes,
Ten wee pudgy nubs at the end of her "tolerable feet"
(If one may quote John Keats's assessment of Fanny Brawne).

 

Why should I remember this kiss that never happened
More than the rushed and smoky ones that did take place
On dormitory mattresses, in Orange Line subway stations?





Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 241 times
Written on 2019-03-01 at 08:36

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
We remember odd things at times. Who knows why synapses fire like that. They are like a miss-tuned car at times. Sounds like you had a lot of innocent fun in those days. Ah the bohemia of youth. Well done indeed.
2019-03-02


Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
Why indeed? But, you've shown us a vision rare and beautiful signifying total freedom of being. A true pleasure to read.
Ashe
2019-03-01


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
A thoroughly enjoyable walk through you memory’s Halls. The phrase “the brown of half lit Room’s in a Dickinsonian winter” is masterly in it evocation. Bravo!
2019-03-01