My gloves are soft.
They are suede, and yes,
they are purple.
I’ve never been to Greece with these gloves,
never been to Greece at all, though I came close,
Have you ever seen that movie?
Those young people capering about, being
So strange and free,
I never understood the car, or the hair, until
It’s a mystery still, that time;
my parents laugh, and sip their wine.
I only know what my computer
screen tells me about lightning, and
I wonder if they would let me
wear my suede gloves on the plane or
In Greece, I might not need them. But
they are so soft, and also
I know it’s late, but I’m still counting this as day 4 since I’m still awake. This poem again inspired by the Poetic Asides blog prompt to write about departure, and also the NaPo prompt to write about love without being cliche. So it’s pretty vague and weird and has a lot of personal meaning that won’t make sense to anyone except me. Anyway, I don’t like it much, but it’s late, I just wrote 2500 words of a ridiculous novel to catch up for Camp NaNoWriMo, and I’m a little bit burned out. So there it is. Enjoy 🙂