I was thinking back to poems I used to love as a kid, and my mind kept going back to one by John Tobias, a gift from our eighth grade English teacher Miss White (upon whom I had the most intense schoolboy crush, which at the time I was quite convinced was true love). I hadn’t thought about this poem in years, and I was afraid to look at it again, worried that I wouldn’t like it anymore.<\/p>\n
I am very happy to report that I like it just fine. In fact, even more. I’m sure some of you know this poem. For the rest of you, happy discovering! Does anyone else happen to have a favorite poem from childhood, one that still resonates for you now?<\/p>\n
\r\n Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle\r\n Received from a Friend Called Felicity<\/b>\r\n\r\nDuring that summer\r\nWhen unicorns were still possible;\r\nWhen the purpose of knees\r\nWas to be skinned;\r\nWhen shiny horse chestnuts\r\n (Hollowed out\r\n Fitted with straws\r\n Crammed with tobacco\r\n Stolen from butts\r\n In family ashtrays)\r\nWere puffed in green lizard silence\r\nWhile straddling thick branches\r\nFar above and away\r\nFrom the softening effects\r\nOf civilization;\r\n\r\nDuring that summer--\r\nWhich may never have been at all;\r\nBut which has become more real\r\nThan the one that was--\r\nWatermelons ruled.\r\n\r\nThick imperial slices\r\nMelting frigidly on sun-parched tongues\r\nDribbling from chins;\r\nLeaving the best part,\r\nThe black bullet seeds,\r\nTo be spit out in rapid fire\r\nAgainst the wall\r\nAgainst the wind\r\nAgainst each other;\r\n\r\nAnd when the ammunition was spent,\r\nThere was always another bite:\r\nIt was a summer of limitless bites,\r\nOf hungers quickly felt\r\nAnd quickly forgotten\r\nWith the next careless gorging.\r\n\r\nThe bites are fewer now.\r\nEach one is savored lingeringly,\r\nSwallowed reluctantly.\r\n\r\nBut in a jar put up by Felicity,\r\nThe summer which maybe never was\r\nHas been captured and preserved.\r\nAnd when we unscrew the lid\r\nAnd slice off a piece\r\nAnd let it linger on our tongue:\r\nUnicorns become possible again.\r\n\r\n<\/font><\/big><\/em><\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"I was thinking back to poems I used to love as a kid, and my mind kept going back to one by John Tobias, a gift from our eighth grade English teacher Miss White (upon whom I had the most intense schoolboy crush, which at the time I was quite convinced was true love). I … Continue reading “Reflections on a gift”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.kenperlin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/118"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.kenperlin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.kenperlin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.kenperlin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.kenperlin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=118"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/blog.kenperlin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/118\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.kenperlin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=118"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.kenperlin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=118"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.kenperlin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=118"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}