9/20 freewrite--spring

i had forgotten what spring was like
water flowing from a mouth
somewhere, in the twilight
an eleven-year-old girl-boy
eats ding-dongs for dinner

so the blossoms never bloomed
and the air stayed metal
smelling like
licking the jungle gym
in sub-zero weather

grass the color of
goose shit
greybluechartreusebrown
not dewy
just vague

once, on a morning meant for flight
just six months after getting my license
i tried to turn a slushy corner
and skid into a ditch

dad got out of the car in front of me
said: don't brake in the snow
guess i'll wait another day to go back
to ohio

someone lent us a cell phone
it was before i had one
before dad used mine so much
to update us from the hospital
before he said:

i think i'll get your mom a cell phone for christmas
and i said: you really think
that's waht she wants? sounds
more like what you want

what would mom do with
a cell phone anyway?
she's always at home
or the hospital
or if she's out, she's with you

the tow-truck came
and so did the cops
nothing damaged
but my northeast ego
exiled in midwest doldrums

forgetting
is when you live now
i means you're never bored
because you just
don't know any better

every march, the whole city
would sit in a palpable tension
we'd watch the news
and the branches
jealously peeking at
clips from southwesterly climes

then,
often overnight
they would burst in pink and magenta
foaming with colors
so indiscreet, you couldn't
walk the street without at least once
wondering if you, yourself, were a street walker

this was spring

for three years
i actually knew what it was
she had talked about it
all through my childhood
held it with such anticipation

i'll buy you a new doll set
for spring
i'll buy you a kimono
for spring
we'll make sakura mochi
for spring
you'll start new school
in spring

how have we sprung from spring?