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| Lunch, George Tooker, 1964, Columbus Museum of Art |
Lunch
This is what I remember.
Head down tuna surprise
Sweet tea and chocolate
Pudding-like substance
And then that terrifying
Glance up – too much
Too many I can’t even
Can’t even can’t even…
I sit at my desk
unwrapping
ham and cheese
and Ivanhoe.
Falling into
Rebecca’s world
I eat in peace.
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| The Bug, 11th Grade, 1980 Man that is some serious hair! |
This is a Magpie Tale.
My dear Bug
ReplyDelete,How splendid you look and how vividly you recall HIGH SCHOOL
and I never even attempted Ivanhoe.....!
Wow! That IS some seriously big hair. I hope you won. ;)
ReplyDeleteS
HUUUGE Haair! Fantastic! Poem goes very werll with that picture as well.
ReplyDeleteI can so relate to this one Bug....but I think that photo is adorable!!
ReplyDeleteit was definitely the time of big hair.
ReplyDeletewe were allowed to eat outside on the campus so that's where I always ate, sitting with a small group of friends under a tree.
nice poem.
I enjoyed reading during my lunch hours too! Still do!
ReplyDeleteGreat post! I am so loving the 80s hair, mine was pretty 'big' too:)
ReplyDeleteI SHOULD have read during lunch
ReplyDeletelove the hair....
You have inspired me to write about my school lunch breaks with your poem...so good!
ReplyDeleteOh, I know that painting well. Nice poem!
ReplyDeleteCan identify with the poem, and like it,especially the first half.
ReplyDeleteMy poofy hair always got tied back!
nice...i know that escape well..books have definitely played that role for me...tuna surprise is never a good thing...the surprise gets me every time...smiles.
ReplyDeleteReally liked the poem - wonderful capturing of a place, a time.
ReplyDeleteThe hair I'm not so sure about...
The lunch room horrified me. Your words brought back all my anxieties about lunch situations at school.
ReplyDeleteThat is way serious hair, girlfriend!
"And then that terrifying Glance up – too much Too many I can’t even Can’t even can’t even… "
ReplyDeleteOh, good girl! The broken record sound ~ perfect!
What a satisfying bit of conflict resolution you have captured here. Poets sometimes forget that conflict is as essential to a good poem as it is to a novel.
And the hair, since you invite comment about it, I so coveted your naturally curly hair 10 years earlier, big wild Afro-like ringlets on my fine, flat, straight, parted-down-the-middle blonde anti-war-demonstrating, acid-dropping, pot-brownie-eating head that I braided it wet in tiny Medusa-like braids every week so it would dry big and kinky. The grass is always greener.
I'm still envious of big hair. Seriously envious. Yes, still. Your poem is a thing of beauty and timelessness.
ReplyDeletehilarious! thanks for taking me back
ReplyDeletehilarious! thanks for taking me back
ReplyDeleteThis both convinces and moves me utterly. Well done.
ReplyDeleteOh, I have been there. And I call it "GBH" Great Big Hair. Although, yours looks natural - I spent an hour every morning poofing mine up and up and up - only to fall flat by the end of the day. I was shy too...
ReplyDeleteLoved this.
Oh no - the hair was NOT natural! It was a perm gone wild. Sigh. Thank goodness after about 10 more years of perms I finally gave up on those!
ReplyDeletePerms.. yes. They were my torture too!
ReplyDeleteI love your reference to the Wyeth...I remember feeling just this way...
ReplyDeleteA beautifully written, imaginative take on this week's prompt...
ReplyDeleteSafety at the desk! I loooove your hair and your wide-open eys waiting for life!
ReplyDelete