SLOW PURCHASE

WORDS: NICK MARTINO '16

ELIJAH STEVENS '15

ELIJAH STEVENS '15

Untitled

I made a myth of myself
American
In the white light we grew
Our hair young and lingered
In movie theater parking lots
The clouds suspended over glass 

In the restaurants  
We wear our father’s watch
And the girls hold a drowsy bouquet
Horns and anthers, tails and ears

What complacency
Of hope left us
Inheritors of a vacancy
Listening to birds
Through the bedroom door


suburban prosaic

tell me what the porch light said
what vigil kept the summer lawns
and luminaria
the swimming pool

thick with paper moths
what did the tennis courts witness
when all the sprinklers came on

exactly at midnight
rousing the zen dogs
from their wooden houses

to watch the street for cars
and wonder
in their quiet way


some of the guys

eyeless plasticine
worship dreams of
a college girl in a violin case
waiting in the wings
for the dénoument
your legs point
all this way this
way this way
this