The Slam: Slammables
coming home as armed robbery
by zachhuizenga
somewhere along the side of this road
you will find a gas station with pumps that groan and sigh
and inside there will be a lady in her sixties
who wears obnoxious pumps and obnoxious makeup and obnoxious necklaces that chip and crack
she will sell you a day-old times star herald daily gazette
and maybe a candy bar that got crushed in the box
you're feeling lucky, so a lottery ticket that will not pay out
enough unleaded to carry you home
there is a road map curling in the blistering sun coming through your windshield
circa 1997, pray to a god rand mcnally knew how to plan ahead
the seats look like a rat went to town
cigarette burns and you can see the canary foam inside
a train would've been simpler
greyhounds run cheap, sardine though you may be
hitchhiking, and maybe you wouldn't disappear into a cold case filing cabinet
but no, there's no better way
soldiers get a parade
well, or spat on by fonda
they get the free rounds of budweisers and high school beauty queens
the post traumatic stress disorder, the claustrophobia, the gun on the nightstand
you were never a soldier, and there is neither lager nor luger six hundred miles north
there is a someone who sometimes lets you inebriate and kiss her
ray will sit at the bar with you, although he'll likely leave you with the tab
your parents will appear mildly excited
church, complete with steeple poking into heaven
your childhood reverend will shake your hand, grasp your shoulder
mouth off some recycled return to the fold rhetoric
you will smile, thin as autumn leaves
your world is turning sepia
singed slightly at the edges, and folding in on itself
glimpses of yourself as six, tottering a
bicycle down a gravel driveway
independence often closes with broken wrists
home is admittance
a disguised reluctance with weary arms,
spread mostly open
maybe jesus didn't really want to hang up there
perhaps you'd better just turn around.
I really like the way you use details that aren't perfect; it makes the setting come alive. I was curious about why you chose to use present as well as future tense; now, after thinking about it, it seems to fit the feeling that this is all a voice in someone's head telling them what to expect. Unusual and very real.
critiqued by eponine-pontmercy, London, UK
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010
I love this. I relate -- having been away from my parents' house for a couple of years, I have very mixed feeling about going "home" -- but more than that, your language is evocative, pithy, and paced well. The arms (appendages) / arms (weapons) word play is fun (though I'm not 100% convinced I understand all the implications), and your final stanza is perfect.
My only minor stumble was over the line, "your parents will appear mildly excited," which seemed out of place, though I have trouble putting my finger on why. Perhaps it is that the rest of your poem is defined by moments and items and descriptive language rather than emotions. While I hate to resort to a critical cliché (especially since your work is so original), it seemed to me that you were suddenly "telling" rather than "showing." I wonder if there's another way you could put the same sentiment, using the kind of vivid detail that you have throughout the rest of the poem, e.g. "your mother will hug you and then go back to folding laundry in front of Oprah" (you can do better, but you get the point).
Anyway, thank you for sharing this.
critiqued by Elizabeth, California
Sep 10, 2010
Sep 10, 2010
I like the details in this, but your poem was very, very confusing to me. Maybe adding punctuation and capitalization would make it clearer? Unless the confusion was intentional; it seems to be part of the atmosphere of the poem.
The line that goes "pray to a god rand mcnally knew how to plan ahead" made me laugh. I also love the line "you will smile, thin as autumn leaves." Great imagery.
I just wish I'd understood your poem better. Keep writing!
critiqued by fountain-pen, France
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010
Slammings