Carousel
She tells me,
"Get on a horse.
I won't fall. "
And I reluctantly
Step aside
Straddling the stallion
Beside her Pomeranian.
I extend my arm
And she pushes it away
And says,
"Don't worry Daddy,
I'll be okay."
And I
Just want to protect her.
And with each
Revolution
I see
The evolution
That is to occur
When,
We'll no longer go on rides
Side by side
And after a while
Her adoring smile
Will be
For someone else.
"Hold my hand,"
she says.
I take it,
It looks like mine,
Knowing someday
I'll have to give it away.
Our ride ends.
"Wanna go on again? "
"Yes," I tell her,
Thankful,
She's too young
For roller coasters.
She wore open-toed sandals,
Pink nails,
And an expression on her face
That said
She was waiting to give me her number.
I slyly shuffled over,
Presenting myself before her.
"That's two shirts and a pair of pants,
Stick this three on the fitting room door,"
She uttered in a voice
That spoke
She wanted me.
I was intrigued
By the film noir flyer
Posted on the corner,
And drawn in
By the scent of sublime stogies
And macchiato.
The old sidewalk strummer
With linear chords
And a lazy eye
Looked up to greet me,
As I
Eased past the
Local university boys
With the same haircut
And different shades of plaid,
To an open orange recliner.
Narrow girls
With lifeless hair
Cross tapered legs
On wicker chairs
Waiting for boyfriends
To perform blasé songs
From their indie bands
With commercial names.
I sat,
Glad snapping is passé.
It probably stems from my
Latino lineage.
Dad's machismo
Explained his
Callused thumbs,
My propensity for
Double entendres,
And Mom's friend
Who came over late at night
When he was away.
And though I'm a jr.,
I didn't inherit his way.
I just wanted to sign the sheet, And read my meager poems, Hoping someone Would take notice for once And say, "Damn, That was good..."
Manny just got back from the Army.
—Said he's gonna' see the world:
Germany, France, West Virginia
Said it's easy and makes ya' buff
Said he's got Thursdays off
and he's havin' fun
Says he no longer has to worry
about drive-bys in the night
and essays on the corner that fight
Says he's done writin' essays in class
worrying about whether or not he'll pass
cause he's gonna' be sergeant first-class
Says he's tired of terrible teachers
who were first class dicks
stupid pricks
couldn't think of anything else to pursue
Says no one can tell him what to do
And, and,
and FUCK UNIFORMS
he looks better in green than his whole platoon
He is free to be.
Cause Manny's in the Army now...
Most people
wake up
in the middle of the night
compelled to pee.
I woke up
in the middle of the night
compelled to write
about those people.
BIO: Dan Romo writes poetry and attends workshops in the Long Beach area, where he lives with his family. He teaches English at Woodrow Wilson High School, also in Long Beach.
