#97 A New Thing

My sister will often call me up and say, "Rissy, I wrote a new poem!"  And most of them are too good not to share with the rest of the world.  She is a bit shy about them, though, so, I suggested doing a piece every now & then featuring one of her poems.  This is one she wrote after I told her about a revelation I had with a friend that everywhere makes people want to kiss-- crowded museums, funerals, public restrooms... just everywhere.  My sister's poem makes me think, maybe it's not the place, after all.  People just want to kiss all the time. 

photo via ohjoy!

It Doesn’t Matter Where

by Brianna K.

A gas station, old

paint chipping from pumps,

plastic covered food,

buzzing cooler for drinks

at a bar, on a block

of a New York street,

smoky air, loud drunks,

sad drunks, some not drunk at all

under neon sign

for a subway station,

rumble of approaching train,

bongos beat for change

from pockets of rushing people

catching the doors

revolving into a museum

of art lined walls,

sculptures magnificent and simple,

the gas station is framed on canvas

and they stare, seemingly mesmerized,

comfortable, in love as lip caresses lip

and they slip into each other

and they’re kissing in all these places.