K e n n e t h T a n e m u r a

 

Bye Bye Blackbird

Moderate paced streets, some pretty faces,
a cigarette dangles from my fingers,
the diner stays open, newspapers talk about the comedy of leaves,
it was warm enough when wind from the marina floated over rooftops
in this street with a liquor store and laundromat,
stained sidewalks littered with candy bar wrappers,
the homeless man fails to deliver his pitch,
my pockets are empty anyway.

The girl with dyed hair, passive ears filled with half-arguments,
the refrigerator hums mysterious sounds at dusk,
guava juice, blinds darken the room
a studio without corridors, without the luxury of cupcakes,
you have to buy your own coffee,
it doesn't feel like home to you.

Find the person who will point out the North Star for you,
who will name flowers and colors for you,
beyond the obvious concerns of rose and blue....

I'm a late bloomer who planted my trees too early,
picture frames and old wood, with sugar on top,
clarinets and postcards thrown into the mix,
the moon's not yet risen here, we share the summer, July, we share dusk
and threads of the liquid amber,
not as leafy as the lush growth on hills and boulevards of your hometown,
there's no juice left, I chose to have a glass of water before I left,
tea instead with my jelly donut,
I chose to sit on red sheets, a dad drive over the bridge,
familiar city lights sparkling, night air summery soft, sea, downtown, shop
windows,
my watch ticks, I overdose on a day I forgot to drink,
I looked at a girl with intense eyes, watched the back of her head
as she strode down the sidewalk as if her eyes were still apparent to me

 

Kenneth Tanemura has his BA in Creative Writing from San Francisco State.
He is also Assistant Editor of -VeRT. Kenneth lives with his girlfriend Hanna and
her two kids in Lacey, Washington. He would like to live in Seattle.

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