My Black Irish Girl

[reverie]

This is a recasting of a poem I wrote a six years ago called Emerald.

 

2/26/2008

 

 

My Black Irish Girl

 

I met her watching memories on the big screen in the day room:

Working class trash via Roseanne Barr. I could recall a few myself,

so I sat down to join her, while I folded my laundry.

She engaged me the usual social banter

shown to new arrivals in the military:

So where you coming from? Really, how was it?

Think they’ll take me, ‘cause it sucks here?

No really, it does. You got a car? Get one.

I guess I’ll show you around till then: Movie, bar, or club?

 

Typically, if you could stand each after this,

you might as well be friends or something more,

since one of you will be moving on soon enough.

Later people would say we had a lot in common:

both short, same hair: straight black and closely cropped,

glasses, and always serious except for when we laughed.

 

We used each other for a Summer.

Me to get my bearings on yet another Army Post,

and she to cover up that she liked girls;

at least that’s what her ex that still loved her told me

as well as the friends that I turned against her.

Not because she was gay, but because before

she had given me hope and that is the cruelest thing

you can give someone, when you know that there is none.

 

A year later, I would ran into her while sending off

my officer packet to a medical review board in Colorado.

I didn’t recognize her with her long hair and piercings,

and she laughed at that, taking the packet from me,

and then while flipping through it, congratulating me on

my accomplishments she said she was heading that way herself,

to Colorado because it still sucks here and she had finally gotten out.

Edited February 26, 2008 by reverie

[Peredhil]

that rings familiar. You have a knack of distilling essence into words.

[Silver WInd]

Nicely done, I really like this.