The summer before you moved away
we played baseball til the lights came on
we sold ice water at the bus stop
and we made up our own language.
We played baseball til the lights came on
my knees were covered with scabs
and we made up our own language
it was too far to walk to the pool.
My knees were covered with scabs
and your mom hid her beer in a drawer
it was too far to walk to the pool
one day it was a hundred and one.
And your mom hid her beer in a drawer
one day it was a hundred and one
we sold ice water at the bus stop
the summer before you moved away.
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About The Author
Kathleen Shaw grew up in Northeast Philly during the 1960s. For twenty years, she has taught English at Montgomery County Community College in Pottstown.
I wrote the same comment twice -- the second time from memory, the best I could. Spam? What about my comment could
be mistaken for spam? Even though these comments are brief
they still take time and work. I just wanted to compliment
Kathlee Shaw on a poem that moved me. I didn't want to take
up a career of figuring out what the people at P.S. want.
I hope the poet at least gets to hear that I really liked
her work. ------------ Charles Killeen
To Kathleen Shaw: What makes me (us) respond to a poem isn't
always clear. An English instructor in L.A. years ago told
our class not to appoach a poem looking for meaning but just
to respond to the way it made us feel. Meaning could come
later. (Words to that effect.) Oxford Circle Summer made me
feel,on first reading,Philadelphia,Summer,youth,loss...
(I'm 78 and grew up in East Germantown.) In my own writing,
mostly fiction, I try to put the reader in the scene. Your
poem did that for me -- I was just suddenly there. Nice.
I'll be looking for more. Oh, it (your poem)evoked an anonymous poem that ended "...the longest day you went away,
the very next day after." Do you know that? Also, I often
think of John Ciardi's title, How Does A Poem Mean? That title made immediate sense to me but I heard other people
struggle over it with great annoyance. Thanks for the nifty
pome. ---- Charlie
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