Mar 01



A Tall Glass of Tomorrowland   by Nancy Schatz Alton


I am drinking you in

the way you turn away from me

the end of your ‘bye caught and tossed

to the world

which now waits for you

as I watch your backside

high-waisted, giant-pocketed jeans

red sweatshirt, perfect-fit, very neat made especially for

the high-school girl

who weaves the stray hair into her braid

like a bad-ass hair professional

my girl who is not my girl

who is (as we like to repeat)

a daughter

of life waiting for itself.

Still she slammed into me hard

rearranging everything that used to be true

until I’m left not remembering

the heft of her in my arms

how I couldn’t wait to put her down

until she could no longer be carried

except in my heart

always in my heart

the one that can’t comprehend

how she found her own socks

without me

a matched set

for me to spy

while watching her walk

into the high school

grey socks she bought with her own money

emblazoned tenderly with tiny red hearts

eye candy, a silly syrupy valentine

she sends to me without notice

sigh-gasp sweet/love for my hungry-heart eyes.


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