High Beams

High Beams

 

 

the Camaro sat with its eyes facing me

behind my house,

love drifted into another's arms

 

staring at me with disdain

the motor running,

like an irreverent heartbeat

 

the shades drawn

with writing on the walls of my upside-down world

a few words translated, but no need

 

the Camaro smiled

through my tears

their lips were meeting

 

while our meetings 

were forever adjourned

a blonde notice

 

a note pinned to my door

piercing the skin of tactile recognition

I still might love you,

 

but I hate that car.

 

 

erin-cilberto

8/6/22

Reviews

[Tricessimus]

An '88 Honda Accord, if only I could find the girl again who liked me too much when I was the fool who ignored her. Maybe the opposite of what you've written but you have once again plucked the cord of memory. That trashy accord smiled, and history only shows that it was smirking at the moment lost. Thank you again for putting harmonious words in my wake.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Trice, I appreciate hearing how readers respond to what I have written...no right or wrong ever...a poem belongs to the reader, and you remind me of someone I let go once...she felt as yours did...but I thought we were too young...I let her go and when I tried to get her back...too late.
thank you for sharing.
j.

[Tricessimus]

Let not my words detract from the artistry you have offered. You are very prolific in presenting quality poems. Jealous. My process is much slower. Just spent too much time trying to anagram your name plus an adjective. Sorry, there's nothing good to be found.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

I'm reminded of a time back in '78 in my father's old aqua blue Squareback Volkswagen which was used by several of the neighborhood kids as a sex den. The doors were never locked in that car because it was the 70's and who in their right mind would even think about stealing that damned ugly vehicle. Plus it was seldom used and had flat tires. It sat at the far edge of the driveway near some bushes. We as children would often climb up to the roof sitting up watching the stars while the older of us would smoke a joint or share a stolen coors can from their parents backyard refrigerator. Some of these would couple up for make out sessions, which would eventually lead to a visit into that Volkswagen. I saw a great many of my young friends contract crabs in that vehicle in a single week during summer. Unfortunately I wasn't one of them which often left my teenage summer's very...meh. This poem really takes me back. With a smile. Thank you J.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

your reflection took me back...great story of youth and the Makeout sessions...
thanks for sharing this Carlos

j.