Day 322

The founder of Jim’s Diner died this week. So I wrote this poem in his honor.

Ode to Jim’s Diner

Bryan Mealer wrote a poem
that captured the spirit of high school.
Sitting in our diner till 4 AM,
writing bad poetry,
smoking filling our lungs with angst.
Twenty-four years later
that poem endures.
I want to write a poem like that.
I want to be remembered
for my metaphors.
Others are recalled
for their baggy baggy jeans
or their green hair
but now they are balding
or fat, and those things
are lost.
A poem lasts forever,
defies nature
and inertia.
Fixed in time
like nothing else


~ by realsupergirl on November 20, 2015.

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