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October 12, 2004

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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yeah… i hit the wall…. ask me about it later:


(an odd phrase: there’s a phase here that i
an odd phrase: m told is called “hitting the wall”
oherrm: hitting hte wall?
oherrm: i dont get it?
an odd phrase: lol, the analogy is like u’re on a bike… i know u’re liking the beginning of htis
an odd phrase: and you’re going smoothly along
an odd phrase: coasting
an odd phrase: perfectly smooth road
an odd phrase: great speed
an odd phrase: you’re on air
an odd phrase: and you’re excited about it
an odd phrase: but then suddenly, it seems like u hit a wall….
an odd phrase: and i got into a bike accident the other day -_-…
oherrm: ouch
an odd phrase: that might help)


 


 


 


I Miss Bagels and Lockes


 


 


 


I miss the bagels on the Sunday mornings,


                                    spread thick with scanion cream cheese


                             toasted lightly, to the perfect shade of brown


                        centered twice over—


                                                just the right amount


                                                            —with slivers of salmon flesh


            eaten at just the right time


                        —so that the bagel’s still soft.


 


                                                                                    It melts in your mouth,


                                                                                         better than M&M’s ever could.


 


I miss the bright sunshine,


                                      —unflawed by smog or pollution—


                             scattered with falling


                                   


 


                                                            g


                                                                        i


                                                                                    n


                                                                                                g


k          o         


 


                                                                                                                        leaves


 


                                                                                                               beneath my feet,


                                                                                                            and in the air,


 


                                                                                                                        all around me.


 


 


 


I miss the hazy afternoon light…


 


 


 


                        (not the kind


                                    overcast by exhaust fumes


                                                                        –that seem to


                                                                  fermugate


                                                                        permeate


                                                            fermentate


                                                                        the air–


 


                                                                                                with smells


                                                                                         still foreign to me…)


 


 


                                                                                                            characterized,


                                                                                        by the sound of lawn mowers…


 


                                    (instead of


                                                horn honks,   and


                                                            irate yells


 


                                                                        scolding or scalding


                                                                            or lewdly entrepreneuring


 


                                             –all in a language I’ve yet to completely breath in–


 


 


                                                                        {and i’m still short of breath})


 


 


 


                        sweeping up whirlwind funnels of,


 


                                                                                    BRIGHT


                                                                                                colorful


                                                                                                            autumnal…


 


                                                                                          {festive-like}


 


                                                leaves…….


 


                                                    {like nature’s Mardi Gras)    of


                                                                                                                        rich,


                                                                                                                          deep,


                                                                                                            hues


                                                                        of emerald green


                                                                 and burgundy-purple


 


                                                            and red, Merlot wine


                                                                                    and sunshine yellow,…


 


                                                                        —calling out to me.}


 


 


            I miss


children raking leaves


 


                        {right outside my window}


            in fall coats, and labradors


               –golden hair afuzz with static—


 


                                                            (to ward off


                                                            the     pre-winter


                                                                        chill


                                                                                    i feel


                                                                                                            at night


                                                                                                      under a sky


                                                                                                full of stars…)}


 


 


                        Or the day with the perfect autumn blue sky,


                                                            slightly frosty with a bit of a breeze—


                                                                                    dotted with


                                                                                                            clouds


                                                                                                {fluffy,


                                                                                                     Real ones


                                                                        –whose every puff


                                                                                          ,like cottonballs,


                                                                                       in the palms of


                                                                                                            gloved hands– })


 


 


                                    –what I like to call an “Apple-Picking Weather” sky…


 


 


 


 


                                                                                    But mostly,


                                                            I miss the people,


                                                                        who, at the end of the day,


                                                                                                I eat the apple-pie with,


                                                                                         and laugh


                                                                                            over burnt bagels,  with,


                                                                                                            and cream cheese


                                                                                                    and lockes.


 


 


                                    I don’t miss home.


                                          I miss the people who make home.


 

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Comments»

1. Fairyskisses77 - October 12, 2004

today was a holiday. yay. the lake was gorgeous. I’ll show you the pictures sometime..i went stargazing last night as well. the arms of the galaxy gathered me up. =] if you miss it so much, you should come back for second semester. poo. I got mr. craig to sponser Special Project Poetry Book in Lieu of Winter Sports. i wish you could be here to help me out with that. we love you, we miss you, and if you don’t come back for second semester, who’s going to take james to the prom??? come back. ❤ —<–@ hearts and roses. -jenn.

2. A_Madder_Hatter - October 19, 2004

Without the people…is it really home anymore?
 


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