Thursday, November 22, 2007

A poem for Thanksgiving

Oh it's funny the things you miss,
aside from the very obvious,
like shiny pink Chanel lip gloss
and bright green turtle flip flops.
Skirts you cannot wear
because of perverts everywhere.
Erin's pub's gigantic mugs
followed by gentle belly rubs.

Eating garlic linguine on Kate's floor
and watching falling snow out the kitchen door.
All at once it comes flooding back
every memory hidden in that intimate stack.
Ones you forgot you even had;
the good and the bad.

You no longer mind being called Batty
because back then you weren´t such a fatty.
You give up bread despite your desire to become a French baker
because now you are an adventure taker.
Thursday nights on the couch,
your favorite candies in a secret pouch.

Your best perfume,
the beer and food you used to consume.
New items Whole Foods is pitchin',
puttering around your own kitchen.
Your best friend's laugh,
excel math,
fresh crisp fall air,
walking down the street without mustering an objectifying stare.

I remember Walt Whitman on his ceiling,
he was the only one to return the feeling.
How she held my hand
while listening to Paul Simon and his band.
I'll always be fond
of that summer night at Colby pond.
Nor will I forget your face
when I walked into our favorite place.

Oh how Laurie will never know how much it meant
that package that she sent.
Villanova Basketball,
the famous word wall.
Whiskey from her sock drawer,
not knowing what we were reading ancient love letters for.

Dinners at spooning close at Danforth,
drinking pinot on the porch.
The wonderful, loving Steele family
and how they always gave happily.

A hundred times over the stair
even though he never showed a care.
Doing dishes at 121,
basking in the New England sun.
Margaritas and 'Dirty Dancing Havana' on cold winter's nights,
the warm dim glow from recessed lights.
Happy hour with my karate friends.
The letters that she always sends.

Singing 'Sunspot Baby'
with dad is never a maybe.
The fat cat in the chair.
How he played with my hair.
The porch club,
A luxurious bathtub.

Glossy magazines and books,
innocent sultry looks.
Crayola markers and their creative powers,
admiring your glorious sunflowers.
How I miss the thrill of driving,
but here it is is like voluntarily dying.
The wonders of the Internet.
How I felt the day we first met.

Beth and my daily phone calls.
Clean and friendly bathroom stalls.
Warm water,
The Lewers's daughter.
The list goes on and on
for the plethora of thoughts will never be gone.
Getting paid,
nail polish with Sunshine at Rite Aid.
Our little trips,
stealing sips.

I feel I've lived a thousand lives,
as it all comes pouring out of the archives.
I just wanted to take a moment to say,
that I think of you ALL every day.

I will never be able to adequately express my gratitude.
I miss you and love you.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

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