Clotheslines

Up where I first saw your underwear dripping

down upon my puberty like I was the chosen few,

they were wheeled off your second story

in full view and into the summer heat,

and were raised above us backyard boys beaten blue

without our shirts to break in new.

Sure we too had our hours in the sun

before our chance at some got thrown—

But soon we were hanged and kicking in the breeze

and set to dry out when the wind was blown,

to be laid to rest with folded arms.

And so me and you were strewn out in the rain

and bloodstained almost every day,

and we got torn apart like rags when it all went bad

and everything we had went fading away

to be left out in the dew.

(guess I just wanted that piece of you)

NEXT

--Poems from the Sprawl