a poem a day for a year #31

by Amy Turn Sharp


I watched The Big Chill a few days ago

the baby boomer propaganda machine

still strikes a flash bulb with this GenX gal

I can recall thinking they were hot

the actors

in an old fashioned way

frizzy hair

skinny like twigs

bad clothing choices

but hot

 

but old

 

and hot damn slap my ass

I am now the same age

walking around parties 

and weekends

and sidewalks

with my people

my fifteen years later crowd

the people that know all my secrets

the people that have seen my vulnerability seep out

and fall down on the ground

slither through years and issues

and rot

our people

messy and unwound

we are tethered to them from a place in the past

 

the past is such a glimmer shimmer pool

full of mostly shit we put away or make up anyways

let's just punch today in the face

bloody the nose of right now

of bad memories

or luck that ran out on us

of auld lange syne and nostalgia

and hot sex in some back bedroom

of impossibly thin thighs

and the ability to love three people at once

 

let's just put on the Rolling Stones

you can't always get what you want 

and hope that we look

back and forth

and around the corner

with a Jagger smirk

with a pirate smile

let's shake our fist at the future

let's win