I Smell Smoke on Saturdays
I see sparkles on the snow
magical marvels, illusions from crystals
bending light at its own speeds
breaking light into constituent
spectral colors.
White light is a mixture of different frequencies
Good God, I think, the refractive index depends on frequency! It took me 60 years to know that.
Rigid or rocking, I stand,
sway in the blues,
indigos, emeralds, limes and purples.
Celestial stars
shooting their sunlit energies at me
from these silvered spiked ice crystals.
I am cured.
When I was six, my speech therapist made me repeat:
I smell smoke on Saturdays.
I smell smoke on Saturdays.
Sally sells strawberries from simple straw baskets to smiling shoppers on Sundays.
I had no idea why we were there.
We were on different frequencies.
No one told me, -the refractive index depends on frequency!
He and I do this repetition over and over,
he seems impatient.
“Keep your tongue behind your teeth”, he says.
I see stubble on sweaty skin,
I see a slim man stand and look at his wondrous watch while feeling it’s Friday.
Soon. Soon, I think.
I smell smoke on Saturdays
I smell smoke on Saturdays
I am six years old saying this.
I am in first grade.
I think, this guy is a pain in my frequency!
I didn’t know the word sex
I didn’t know there was sex.
But I knew at 6
His Hai Karate cologne he doused on each Friday had a purpose.
He will punch out, walk out,
say so long and drive out.
Later he’ll seduce his sensual Sally and her strawberries from simple straw baskets from Friday’s sunset to Saturdays sunrise.
I smell smoke on Saturdays.
I smell smoke on Saturdays.
He nods. We are done for the day.
I am cured.
Ed Lent | I Smell Smoke on Sunday | this poem is about my memory of having a speech impediment when i was an elementary school kid.