a poem a day for a year #34

by Amy Turn Sharp


you were long limbed 

hair brown down

and you were the kind of boy

who wrecked cars

there is a type of boy

like you

turn up the stereo

type it across a white paper

drive fast

almost die

the countryside has swervy roads

gravel crunch curves

all of the bad boys lived on my street

with tight pants and lanky bodies

with sparkle rock and roll eyeballs

and I saw all the wreckage