I used a loose leaf love note paper airplane as an invitation,
and followed it with a faded map of Maryland
using a day-old coffee ring to circle our Saturday night rendezvous spot,
then twisted them into a dusty RC bottle and floated it in your backyard bird bath.
With Mellencamp on Maxell tape moving through open car windows
I set out for the coffee-circled spot with a Buick trunk beach blanket
that I throw down in a moonlit shadow on
the outskirts of civilization and life, as we know them, and await your arrival.
As soon as you appear from the south under someone’s painted promises
sprayed on the side of a rusty railroad overpass, we sit and attempt to
solve the world’s problems over a couple of twist-top bottles of Boone’s Farm
poured properly into two leftover summer picnic paper cups.
Lying on our sides with a harvest moon above we use peach wine and
Levi’s corduroy friction heat to fend off the late fall evening chill.
As clouds cover the moon we send up our own silent prayers and
watch them form their own temporary constellations.
And as you re-tell, and fixate on, what’s been done to you
by the others who took advantage before I was lucky enough to find you
I use stroke-of-midnight sleight-of-hand to palm a behind-the-ear bobby pin
in an attempt to pick the lock on your barely beating broken heart.
Author Bio:
Steven Harz is the 2013 Winner of the People’s Poetry Contest and at 3-time winner of The Iron Writer Challenge. A graduate of Towson (MD) University’s College of Fine Arts and Communications, Steven writes short fiction and poetry designed to invoke images of loves discovered, lost, and sometimes found again. Steven’s work has appeared in The Germ, Tracks, Indigo Rising, Voices 2, Words+Pictures, Donut Factory, Pocket Thoughts, and Ink Monkey Magazine.
and followed it with a faded map of Maryland
using a day-old coffee ring to circle our Saturday night rendezvous spot,
then twisted them into a dusty RC bottle and floated it in your backyard bird bath.
With Mellencamp on Maxell tape moving through open car windows
I set out for the coffee-circled spot with a Buick trunk beach blanket
that I throw down in a moonlit shadow on
the outskirts of civilization and life, as we know them, and await your arrival.
As soon as you appear from the south under someone’s painted promises
sprayed on the side of a rusty railroad overpass, we sit and attempt to
solve the world’s problems over a couple of twist-top bottles of Boone’s Farm
poured properly into two leftover summer picnic paper cups.
Lying on our sides with a harvest moon above we use peach wine and
Levi’s corduroy friction heat to fend off the late fall evening chill.
As clouds cover the moon we send up our own silent prayers and
watch them form their own temporary constellations.
And as you re-tell, and fixate on, what’s been done to you
by the others who took advantage before I was lucky enough to find you
I use stroke-of-midnight sleight-of-hand to palm a behind-the-ear bobby pin
in an attempt to pick the lock on your barely beating broken heart.
Author Bio:
Steven Harz is the 2013 Winner of the People’s Poetry Contest and at 3-time winner of The Iron Writer Challenge. A graduate of Towson (MD) University’s College of Fine Arts and Communications, Steven writes short fiction and poetry designed to invoke images of loves discovered, lost, and sometimes found again. Steven’s work has appeared in The Germ, Tracks, Indigo Rising, Voices 2, Words+Pictures, Donut Factory, Pocket Thoughts, and Ink Monkey Magazine.
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