Friday, April 11, 2008
NaPoWriMo Poem #11
by Edward S. Gault
As Benny and I were putting our bikes away
In that late afternoon,
(thirty...what?..six years ago?)
You came into the garage reprimanding us.
You were very angry.
Your face was contorted-
With blood vessels bulging out from your temples,
I had never seen you so mad.
You were yelling at your son,
But you were looking at me too.
Your eyes told me that you wanted to hit someone
-And you just might.
What ever you said, you were probably right.
All I can say is touche.
But sir, that is all I can remember of you.