Last night, somewhere between rounds of “Celebrity” and glasses of vino, the Continental Poetry Club was established. (Just in time for Poetry Friday!)
I’ll need to start working this weekend on my poem for next week, which must include the following words:
The first thing that comes to mind is a poem about a car crash… but then I started thinking about a break up in a car. And then, I thought, what if it was two teenagers?
Your door was open.
The harness retracted automatically,
a small barrier from ‘single,’
a last chance for a prom date.
Your sedan is a Real World confessional,
played out so that you don’t appear to want,
“I’m sorry,” you say.
It’s my fault.
I put your name on the ballot.
And now our future King needs
a potential Queen,
I will learn the meaning of consequence.
My unworn prom dress in a thrift shop,
the bright new shoes in their box.
You will be prom king,
and I’m no longer in your court.