Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Brandon Webb Jun 2013
I walk out their back door
and onto F street.
I stand there for a second
halfway up the hill
staring at the deep reds and soft pinks of the fading sunset
and then turn and continue on my way
into the shadows of the multi story brick buildings
that form my high school
my old school.
I walk through the staff parking lot and under the library
where I spent my lunches for three of those four years
I climb the stairs and walk past the couch,
the giant cement couch that gets re-painted every night
with a message of some sort,
this time it's white with green letters welcoming the 2014 seniors.
the lights are all on and another guy walks past on the other side of the lawn
I stand there for a second and he passes me
I want to stand here forever
staring at all the buildings
staring at my life for four years,
but I continue on
past the annex, the gym, the Stuart
past the Catholic church where I took pictures in the last snowstorm
past the Mar Vista portables and the art portable
and down Blaine street
where we'd run freshman year in PE,
tapping the gate at Chetzemoka and running back.
Sophomore year I'd walk the same route
during photography and video productions, with friends.
Some days I would turn and walk down to Aldriches,
some days I would continue on
some days I would rehearse my own poetry under my breath.
Today I turn a block before Chetz and continue down the hill
past the condos and the turn off for Point Hudson
past the skate park
past Memorial Field (packed with so many memories)
past the park, the old police station,
the ice cream shop dad used to work at,
the tea shop where I've spent so many hours,
the fountain, the stairs, the writers workshop, the old underground coffeeshop,
my therapist's office, the best pizza in town,
the motel where my mom's first roommate now lives (and works),
into the port and past grandma's old workplace,
past the restaurant my grandpa used to spend hours at
and the boat he used to live on
past the port showers they used to use
and onto the trail along the beach I would walk with mom and grandma
when my now 12 year old brother was in a stroller,
past the mill, sitting at the bottom of three long winding hilly roads,
containing memories of that awful polluted stench that clings to the first third of this town
and would cling to my dad when he'd return from work,
and up the road we lived on when we first moved here.
Past the homeless trails I have scavenged for beer cans on for hours for spare change
and the apartments we used to live in,
past the flowershop where I bought the corsage
that the cheerleader I went to prom with kept getting complimented on.
Past my best friends house
and past the flooring place that we mowed the grass for last summer.
Across the roundabout that has grown into the highway
past the crematorium and waste not want not.
Past the apartments that she lives in, my name still somewhere in her heart.
Past my fathers Jeep and under the archway, covered in dead roses.
Across the mossy yard and through my front door.
I'm going to miss this town.
Brandon Webb Jun 2013
Incense smoke billows into the rays of fading sunlight
from the nostrils of the stone Buddha head
sitting on the wooden bookcase
which sits in front of the only downstairs window
that looks into the cul-de-sac

I stand in the spreading fog
listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers
over the radio static
on knock-off studio headphones.

My cousins are outside, breaking up dirt to be shoveled in the morning
and I can hear the dull thudding
of the *** against the large rocks
above both the calm silence of the house
and the semi-gurgled music playing in my left ear.

I turn around to look at the kitchen;
the counters are clean
so are the dishes
and a small plate of freshly baked cookies
is sitting in the middle of the island.

I walk from the carpet of the living room
to the warm tile of the kitchen
and the scents around  me change;
The overpowering smell of the swirling mist
being overpowered by chocolate chip cookies
fresh baked bread
and homemade spaghetti sauce.

I smile as I stand in the middle of the house
Brandon Webb Jun 2013
For once, the tears aren't falling from my eyes
As I stand on this stage
the arm of the middle aged blond woman-
with a smile frozen on her lips
and tears frozen in her eyes, ready to fall at moments like this,
resting on my shoulders.
And with every word she says
I see another gurgle of raw, teary happiness bubble out of the short shaking woman
sitting in front of me
whose name, face and voice I know
but who I have barely talked to.
The applause is too much
it's all too much.
I take the check,
give a her a 30 second hug
and sit down next to my aunt.
She hugs me and the whole room smiles
the principal takes longer to stand, drying her face
but announces the next presenter just the same.
Brandon Webb Jun 2013
She's right there
fifteen feet from me,
my red, dilated eyes
and bleeding legs
screaming her name
or rather screaming the fact that I couldn't scream her name
couldn't whisper it,
couldn't even get close enough
that if I had whispered it, she would have heard me.
But she's right there
and she doesn't hear me anyway.
So why am I bleeding?
Why am I high?
Why am I broken?
She doesn't care
Brandon Webb May 2013
I stand when they stand, stretching out my legs
tired from sitting on this hard plastic for over an hour.
I look over and they are already sitting back down,
I suddenly feel silly standing
even though my name will be called in less than a minute
And I sit back down.

The second I make full contact with the seat I hear my name
I sigh, stand, and descend to the table.
Brandon Webb May 2013
I shrug the blazer off my shoulders smiling
"It fits" I say
the joy in my voice apparent.
He turns, smiling and hands me a hanger.
"Good luck man" he says
"I've known you for so long, 6th grade, when you were in 8th
It's been great watching you change
watching you grow
and sharing life with you.
You come visit after you leave
even if I'm gone you know the kids will pull you inside
you're like family man, don't go disappearing forever.
I hope you go far
and I'm excited to see what you do"
These words hold so much truth
that I can't even face him,
I study the tv stand
"thanks man, I will
I'll be back someday
and I know that if I sit outside somebody will come eventually.
Thank you for everything you've done
All the memories we have
and the place to stay when I'm bored and I can.
Thank you for your family
that has slowly grown to be like mine.
Thank you.
I'll be back sometime
Brandon Webb May 2013
As our words flit across the screen
I see her on the other side
In her bedroom, or somewhere in her house
That smile she always wears when talking to me
(the one that confuses me because it is shallow and hides a deeper meaning that I can't read)
Stretched across her lips.
What are her intentions here?
what does she gain from this?
From seeing me with another
Not five feet from her
On her night
And knowing she set us up.
What do the eyes hidden behind the screen hide?
What thoughts?
What emotions?
What secrets?
Next page