Something happened to me today.
This isn't a poem, it's a stream of thought
of truth.
This was my Sunday November 11
at 6:50 PM.
Pulling into a gas station to get milk.
Coming face to face with a truck
with two men inside.
The details aren't important.
The words they said are not important.
I couldnt post them if I wanted.
The gestures they made are not important.
Once again, I would not post them.
Theymake me sick just thinking about them.
Being followed out.
Violation from far away.
I feel like I'm going to be sick.
I'm sorry,
I don't mean to just rant like this.
But it horrified me
and it chilled me.
I'm a 5'2" girl
they had size, and strength on their side.
Maybe they were just trying to be funny.
But it didn't feel funny
I felt terrified.
I hope none of you had a Sunday afternoon like I did.
2 comments:
unfortunately, i have experienced a sunday like yours. except the man was drunk and insisted on putting his arm around me, walked me to the door, and tried other things i won't get in to. because like you said, it's not important.
this has the potential of a poem and prose piece. it means a lot. so eliminate 'this isn't a poem...'.
and maybe have the line 'this was my sunday...' as the title.
nix the two 'i couldn't post them if i wanted' lines. you take away from your strength of the story. [i'm a fan of fragments.] 'violated' instead of violated.
don't apologize, either. it takes away from the emphasis of what you're trying to say. i like the repetition of 'i feel like i'm going to be sick'. that's how i felt, too.
the first two lines of the last stanza, eliminate and. and the second to last line, replace felt with was. or am?
love love love the last line.
seriously. :]]
oh babydoll. i'm so sorry you had to live through a sunday like that. I can relate in a different sort of way.
I agree with my crazycool friend's suggestions. this has the potential of a great piece, prose or poetry.
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