My iPod is psychic

Today has been a very musical day. This is not an odd occurrence by any means because music has always been an integral part of my everyday existence, but today my thoughts have been acutely focused on and driven by music. In creative writing, I had my students listen to "Air (Dublinesque)" by Billy Joel and write some flash fiction inspired by the piece. I was genuinely curious to see what they would associate with the song because I have permanently associated specific imagery, storylines, and movements with it thanks to Movin' Out, and the kids did not disappoint. There were weddings, fancy parties, even a dramatic mouse tale (apologies to 717 for the mice reference and to everyone for the bad pun). If you're up to the challenge and the gods of embedding web content are on my side, take a listen and try your hand at it. Or just listen to the piece because it's gorgeous.

Air (Dublinesque) - Richard Jo...

This seems like an appropriate segue to the poem I wanted to post today. Like yesterday's, it was written earlier this semester and has been read by just a few pairs of eyes. I wrote it all in one day, which is odd for me. I usually hack away at a piece for much longer if I actually care about it - I was simultaneously working on three different poems today (if they cooperate, you'll see them soon). But this one found it necessary to be completed in one day, across two time zones, on planes, trains, and automobiles (literally).

It was the last day of my spring break trip to Washington, D.C., where I had been visiting 3 of my favorite people in the world. At the time, my job search was at a point that felt like a crisis but in actuality was laying the groundwork for what turned into a perfect storm of employment opportunity. Not knowing that, however, made it very difficult to wrench myself away from these people who feel like home. I'm never good at goodbyes, but that day was particularly heartbreaking.

It didn't help, either, that my iPod was once again playing that game with my emotions where it shuffles to EXACTLY the songs that seem most appropriate/poignant for the moment (creepily enough, as I type this section, it chose REO Speedwagon's "Time for Me to Fly," which it thankfully did not pick on that awful day or I would have just had a breakdown right there on the train from D.C. to Baltimore). So I put down the Odyssey and picked up my notebook.

Here's what was revised and emailed for first review at the end of the day, back on my futon in Lawrence, waiting for an impending snowstorm:


Riding Backwards

Bumpy tracks disguise a shaking hand;
a broken fingernail provides distraction.
Outside, cars hurtle forward while I am forcibly pulled –
by the unseen forces of home.

iPod shuffles sights, sounds, and memories.
Familiar words come laced with extra meaning:
only on days like this
can Michael Franti and Annie Lennox elicit the same reaction.

Thoughts flash like the morning light between passing trees;
a flood of inside jokes and teasing grins – both past and future.
Synaptic overload leads to shutdown.
No work, but no tears, either.

Headache sets in, dull.
Merely a whisper of what’s to come.
Security hassles and pressure at 30,000 feet await;
the platform demands an about-face.


March 19, 2010