Love and How It Gets That Way
by Bill Yarrow
You were the most beautiful girl in third grade.
My thoughts were restless escapades. My heart
was roasted butter. I donned wax wings and flew
toward the highest sky I could find. And then,
among a score of others, to be invited to your party!
We all stood on the lawn behind your house, most
of us in wide-striped tees, one of us in a bow tie,
eyeing that thing in your backyard, that thing
you pumped to spin around, and we all took turns,
you on one side in a yellow dress and one after
the other of us on the other, and we spun you,
spun you! and then that kid in the bow tie got on, got
dizzy, and vomited, and you looked at him with disgust,
and I felt like Adam's apple had just landed in my lap.
My thoughts were restless escapades. My heart
was roasted butter. I donned wax wings and flew
toward the highest sky I could find. And then,
among a score of others, to be invited to your party!
We all stood on the lawn behind your house, most
of us in wide-striped tees, one of us in a bow tie,
eyeing that thing in your backyard, that thing
you pumped to spin around, and we all took turns,
you on one side in a yellow dress and one after
the other of us on the other, and we spun you,
spun you! and then that kid in the bow tie got on, got
dizzy, and vomited, and you looked at him with disgust,
and I felt like Adam's apple had just landed in my lap.
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Author's Note
A version of this poem appeared in Ramshackle Review 3.
Thank you, Mark Reep!
The title is a variation of the title of an essay by Henry Miller, "Money and How It Gets That Way." The title of Miller's essay was taken from a phrase in a letter he got from Ezra Pound.
This poem appears in my chapbook FOURTEEN (Naked Mannekin, 2011).
The poem appears in Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX, 2012).
Other stories by Bill Yarrow
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"My heart was roasted butter."
Yes, yes it was. .
Wonderful *
"roasted butter"--hm. I love the final image, it evokes at least 3 levels of appreciation and one smile. *
I remember this from Ramshackle. Loved it then, still love it. I can picture little Bill in his bow tie...*
Poetry, and how it gets that way: a rush of understanding at conclusion.
Really like this, Bill. You put us right there.
The last line is worth the price of emission.
Sorry. Had to say that. Your fault, though, channeling Pound through Miller's snappy window.
fave for the last line alone.
"and I felt like Adam's apple had just landed in my lap." Yes.
Great piece, Bill. And high praise for Fourteen.
way back then, such a nice memory.
Yup, that's what love is. Mythology, T-shirts and bow ties, vomit. Keen. *
home run Bill, again
The Bill that evokes such wonderful memories of yore.
Fave.