Forgetting to brush your teeth,
Slouching in a hard-backed chair,
And the delicious feeling of cracks in the sidewalk,
Pressing through the rubber bottoms of leather shoes:
Unhealthy habits developed at four.
I examine my life by attempting to balance the number of ghost lines cut into the soles of feet on
my daily journey home. A deep line against the tibial nerve of my left foot feels like God stepping
over the Grand Canyon. This is countered with two skinny-dips into the saphenous region of my
right foot. Satisfaction is the feeling of each foot burning with the residual cuts of sidewalk cracks,
even as I go to sleep.
my daily journey home. A deep line against the tibial nerve of my left foot feels like God stepping
over the Grand Canyon. This is countered with two skinny-dips into the saphenous region of my
right foot. Satisfaction is the feeling of each foot burning with the residual cuts of sidewalk cracks,
even as I go to sleep.
Stepping on sidewalk cracks is unlucky, Alison says, but superstition won’t deter me. Control
slips out of my hands, and I dig my heels in further, pushing down dandelions that won’t leave me
alone. Perhaps my stubborn plumage has made me a sitting duck, yet malfortune becomes rubber
bullets against my cavalier shield in this battle I’m destined to lose.
slips out of my hands, and I dig my heels in further, pushing down dandelions that won’t leave me
alone. Perhaps my stubborn plumage has made me a sitting duck, yet malfortune becomes rubber
bullets against my cavalier shield in this battle I’m destined to lose.
Luck according to those around me: dreaming of lottery numbers, Willy Wonka’s golden ticket, guessing the correct answer when clueless on a scantron.
Luck according to me: the bus being late the exact number of extra seconds spent singing in the shower, getting your hands on the last ripe watermelon, guessing the right number of seconds to expose a photograph in the darkroom. Everything good that has ever happened to me despite my inclination to step on cracks and pet cats underneath ladders, or turning 13 on Friday the 13th.
Masochism is: fight club,
My father’s gambling habits,
My mother’s tendency to trust,
Carrying knives through metal detectors,
My daily walks.
I step on sidewalk cracks, and feel lucky.
Wow! I really like the longer stanzas that almost seem to be rambling on. Your reflections on what you consider lucky are super reflective of your personality and expose how unique your thoughts are. I also like how it ends with "Masochism is:" cause it's a really good way to close the poem.
ReplyDeleteI love how you have sort of paragraphs with listing of examples, it really emphasizes your points. I also really like the line, "I step on sidewalk cracks, and feel lucky", it's very powerful and portrays the point of your poem really well.
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