Over on Facebook last week, I posed a question — “If you could make me write a poem, what would it be about?” — and got some interesting responses that I’ve been letting marinate in the hopes that one of them would break through my current case of writer’s block. Yesterday, determined to read something new at 13, I went with Cory’s prompt — “A gentrification poem in the voice of a subway car. Locale and line your choice.” — and ended up with one of the oddest poems I’ve ever written, in terms of how it evolved from the first line to the complete first draft.
“Untitled” for now, it’s really two different poems: the one I started to write, about the difference between my 4th grade commute and my current one, both on the D train, and how the faces have changed over the years; and the one it decided it wanted to be, reminiscing about being a Yankee fan back in 1978 and how different they are today. It’s about as unpolished a first draft as I’ve ever read on stage, but there was something startling to me about the passion for the Yankees that bubbled up, and I thought it was pretty funny that I was wearing my Edgardo Alfonzo Mets jersey last night.
A-Rod is officially the new Michael Jordan, the reigning “all about me” superstar, only without the championships or mega-endorsements. Farewell, loser!
Interestingly, with Joe Girardi taking over as manager from the Zombie King, Pay-Rod packing his bags, and the exciting kids who came up this year and saved the season, I’m starting to feel like I could become a Yankee fan again! While I’m sure they’re going to spend as much money as they always have, it almost feels like the tide is turning here in NYC and the Mets have become the fat, lazy underachievers while the Yankees are resembling the scrappy underdog you can’t help but cheer for. If Graig Nettles finds his way onto Girardi’s staff, I may have to officially convert!
Weird.
