Streetcar Poem

This Monday, I'm going to a local writing group at a library near my house.  They come up with a theme each month and you have to write on the theme.  This month's was "streetcar(s)," and I had no idea what to write.  So I wrote this poem that doesn't have a title yet, and already needs to be rewritten.  I'm kinda excited about the prospect of getting to meet writers in the neighborhood, and I'm sad that these meetings only happen once a month, which naturally means that I need to find more writing groups or start one myself.  I'm thinking every two weeks would be pretty neat.  So yeah.  Poem.

Streetcar Poem

If you hook up a trolley pole

to my heart and weld

roller skates to my feet,

maybe the wires would lead me

somewhere.

Electricity could prompt my pulse

to nudge positivity through my veins,

and my little roller skate wheels

could slide on down the road.

But don’t wires and cables

and those little metal valleys dug into the street

only go so far?

When I’m stuck, it’s you

who is Stella from “Streetcar”

while I’m Marlon Brando

screaming your name from the sidewalk,

tearing my hair in giant follicle fistfuls

because your window’s closed

or you’re just not listening.

Because your preoccupations

settle into your attention, reminding me that I’m passé

like the horse and carriage.

You’d much rather wrestle

with your concept of The Future illuminating

your computer screen,

never mind the chat box winking at you.

So when the pebbles lodge

in my roller skates

or the overhead wires cross and twist,

the only help I can rely on

is my own unwillingness

to stay in one place.

Because it really doesn’t matter

where the wires go

as long as following them means

I can find a Future for me.