Around 1967 we moved to Bridgeport, CT. I’m standing looking around the hallway in a school. Lost in space; a lonely place, a foreign land. Why don’t they speak Spanish?
Around 1969 I’m asking why are they on the moon, I thought. Roller skating around the hallways was fun. I played with the white stuff; it was so cold.
Around 1976 I lived in the South Bronx. Dad is Super of the 181st Street building. Roaming the night streets on weekends. Mom can’t read nor write. I wind-up in jail.
Around 1977 I met a friend in a supermarket, my life changed. I go home that night crying. Sprawled on my parents’ bedroom they want to know what’s wrong with me.
Around 1969 my sister walks the city barefooted, with bell-bottom pants, showing her bellybutton. Dad doesn’t like that and gives her a whipping. I didn’t understand. Mom goes to the room and cries.
Around 1972 my brother decides to steal a bike. I had to fight to defend him. I was so scared of that gang.
Around 1982 I was in love and I tell my girlfriend I’ve join the Army, now let’s get married. She says yes. So I married an 18-year-old beautiful Puerto Rican girl. We go to Brooklyn, NY. That same year Terry’s pregnant with our first child—Teri Lee. She sends me magazine clips with baby pics, I don’t understand. I was a private in Basic Training.
Around 1990 I’m in Kuwait and the sky is black. I miss Terry and the kids.
Around 1997 Terry lands in Budapest, Hungary to meet-up will me. She’s so brave
Around 1963 is dark, I smell gasoline, crying in a cramped car upside down.
Around 1979 I rode the subway to Coney Island with a friend. The Warriors was my favorite movie.
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Author:
rrodriguez (
Offline) - Published: October 16th, 2017 11:04
- Comment from author about the poem: Working on prose poetry has giving me a vehicle to my inner thoughts and to these random memories.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 62
Offline)
Comments4
Roberto, you might as well add me to the list. Want to know the same thing Santi wants to know.
Really like your prose memories. Have to try to do something like that myself. A lot of things happen in any life worth writing about.
PS: If you don't want the whole story out in the open, you can always write to Santi and me on our mail box. Send it to one and copy it to the other one.
Thank you Fred for your kind words. And for reading my prose poem. I invite you to read the answer I gave Santita. This lengthy response will answer both of your questions.
Good write and the succinct way of showing episodes in your life works so well.
Thank you Gold. The structure of prose poems is based on succinct sentences.
I was quite intrigued by this prose poem of your memories. Like Santita said, you left me wanting more! You have led an interesting life and must hold a lot of wisdom. Thanks for sharing this part of yourelf with us!
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