Tuesday, June 16, 2009

say the magic word


even despite the flickering fluorescent lights
suggestive of impending axe murders
there's something nostalgic
about the dusty basements of old office buildings
their cold cement stomachs and cardboard flotsam
their shallow potential
and vacancy

they are private, secret
passwords birthed from children's lips
love letters written in number code
passed from sweaty hands under steel school desks
they can belong to you

like a rusted hood ornament in a box under your bed
like a clearing in the forest you give name to

3 comments:

Jon said...

Makes me wonder if they pay you to write poetry at your job!

Dorkmaster Flek said...

They should! I love those little secret places nobody else knows about. :)

shannon teresa said...

love the last line and on a totally un-related topic I had to write you somewhere to tell you how you MUST do a blog post based on this line:

My last point is that I still stand firmly behind my statement that waiting for marriage to have sex is a big, big mistake if you care at all about having a satisfactory sex life.

It knocked me back, though we've thought it I've never heard anyone say it. BRILLIANT!