Wednesday, February 07, 2007

You Were My Girl

We were the lost ones,
the pretty few,

lining boots with finest fur,
diamante dripping from our veins

till our faces turned milky blue.

I saw you the first time
down O'Brien's alley

amid Coke cans and litter,
the sounds of Frankie Valli.

You stumbled from his car,
hitched up your mini-skirt

against the bakery wall
as he flipped his cigar.

I shrank back into my doorway
like Orson Welles,

only I was wrapped
in sheepskin and gold;

hair like seaweed,
fish scales beneath my nails,

sipping on nicotine.

You swung round,
big-eyed as a rag doll
or a puma;

your coat clung to you
like it was your only full-time lover

as you mouthed a curse
at me, raised a finger.

I wanted you
there and then,

as you disappeared into clouds of rain

at the back of 54th street,
behind cheap car fenders.


Georg said...

Hallo Clare,

Wonderful poems but disturbing. I wonder how you are in everyday life.

Scrolling down your blog, I have read four of your poems. All good.

May I ask you something, like a total stranger to a stranger. Just try and make a funny, hilarious poem. As an exercise of style.

Cheers and tinkety-tonk

clare said...

... oh but Georg, these ARE the funny ones.

Thanks for tuning in! x

Georg said...

Splendid Clare (or Claire?).

Funny or not, I'll always have a look at your texts, they are so extraordinary.

Wish you luck and success in your ventures.


Rob Hopcott said...

Yup! Brilliant!

I'm not really into poetry - or are they songs without the music?

I'm going to book mark you!

Never mind, eh :-)

Anonymous said...

I like how you write and think I may just spend the aftenoon in here reading.You have a way of saying something so ordinary in an striking way.

clare said...

Thanks Sarah, I hope you enjoy...