"after a homecoming victory,"
Tyler Loeslein 

Cliché’s painted onto high school walls
and the back of dingy bathroom stalls
lead the easily molded minds
of the youth desperate to prove
just how grown up they are,
like lemmings off a cliff
into forced lives
of being let down
by false expectations
and not being prepared
for what reality really means.
The captain of the varsity cheer squad
gives herself to the state ranked quarterback
underneath the echoing steel bleachers
after a homecoming victory,
sprawled out in the dirt
among dropped popcorn bags
and crushed paper cups,
she is blinded by her delusions
of this relationship being real,
and her dream of it lasting
past the hurdles high school presents,
are not plausible,
because as flexible as she is,
she was never meant for track,
especially not long distance,
while his frenzied thrusting
shows that the quarterback
definitely has it in him to be a sprinter,
but he sees this as just another touchdown,
and plans to get the extra point later,
with the cheer captain’s “best friend.”

Queue Kitty 

I have never
Danced in a
Pitch black room
With the smell
Of flowers
I only dance
In the rain, a
Clean, and icy
I only dance
In a dark and
Hot gym for
With friends all
I am not the
Most graceful or
Original, as I stumble
And lose rhythm
And simply sway or spin
Nevertheless, I

"--We went to Homecoming - Kit do you remember?"

Rushed, cascading half-notions fall through me.
Fragments of shattered memories, both meaningless and treasured.
Love, I find, is equivalent to pushing a boulder to the top of a hill
Only to have it un-balance at the top and tumble back down
Crushing those sinews and bone who gave it motion.

--We went to Homecoming - Kit do you remember?
I told your mother we were not dating. Just friends.
On the way there.
But after the game. I asked you what was wrong.
You called me on it. I knew exactly what was wrong.
And I told you, better to only have a crush, than love someone who cannot love you.
And you kissed me. And I kissed back.
And everything fell in place.

--A small playground outside of an elementary school
I trapped you in my arms and tried to kiss you
Only to stop as I saw the discomfort in your eyes.
I backed up and let you collect yourself.

--A crackling fire, cold air, you and me side by side
Just talking. Sharing our thoughts.
I showed you Jupiter, and Saturn.
You showed me that smile. I would like to think it was mine then.

--My sister bitching about something - I dont remember what.
She threw a phone at me. And all I could think was to get you away from her.
She's so temperamental, she would've started on you next.
Later that night I apologized and cried on your shoulder.
I was embarrassed you had to see that.
And I was horrified that you could've gotten hurt.

--When you called the social services on your parents,
Because their fucking idiots. And you were about to be homeless.
The big scene at school. On the bus home I cried, not because I was upset.
But because you were. I... shared your pain. Felt for you. wanted to help but didn't know how.
I didn't speak a word that night. not to anyone but you.

--I remember walking you to class and vice-verse. Holding hands
Kissing. Playing like kids. Drowning in each others presence.

--I remember my first prom. The night was amazing,
even though nothing went the way I thought it would.
I wonder if you remember the "After" that night in my room.
I would like to think you do.

--When you were talking about breaking up with me.
When you were staying with your aunt, and I conned Dad
into bringing me there. We sat down on the porch. We talked.
Cried a little, made amends.
It was your birthday I think, or perhaps the day before.

--I remember the building. "Our" Building.
So many good memories of that place.
To many to recount. I tried rice and beef stew there.
Do you remember? I loved it.
But I stay away from it now, it just serves to remind me.
Of you.

There are so many more memories I want to tell.
So many sinews and tendons and organs that made up
My first true love. But now they are nothing but
emaciated little smushy pieces of what-once-was
I dont know whether I want it to stay like this
Or If I should keep trying for you. Keep waiting until you get your fill
of that fucking "Virgin"

I have to stop now, but perhaps later I will continue this.
But I have to stop, perhaps sharpen my blade and
cut these memories away before they destroy me.

Prabhu Iyer Sep 2012

Mellow season rain slipping by the thunderstorm
oh you have come, unknown visitor,
unrecognized. Lone rose that bloomed in rain,
drenched always in tears, this morning
shaded beams of light and the song of birds
welcoming the respite bend past you.
This is the sea leading to Ithaca. Here I stand
on the shores of the land that was my home.
Who left with hundreds, alone I return like a thief.
The gentle hand that passed last from my sight
out of the multitudes that waved us bye,
A hundred whispers of chants and hymns
from shadows that rise from the corners where
I found refuge from pain in these years:
Whom do those fingers choose, honour-bound
whom I left alone those twenty years ago?
Years that rush like a river streaming past gorges.

What would your thoughts be if you were to return home twenty years late?
"Trouble built its fort; prepared for a homecoming"
Daphne Ryan 

Trouble built its fort; prepared for a homecoming
Defeat arrived at the doorstep forgetting to bring the welcome mat
Anger was brought out of storage to relieve the emptiness
Panic would cause a stir otherwise.

"Who will kiss the homecoming queen?"
Mark Lecuona 

Hey hey little Davy
Guess that was the last train
But you forgot to say goodbye to Jean
Now she’s crying herself to sleep
Who will kiss the homecoming queen?

Hey hey little Davy
We’re still the young generation
And this is what we have to say
We wanted to be just like you
Now you’ve gone away

Hey hey little Davy
We’re still messing around
Following in your footstep
We hopped on those stones
While we ate our breakfast

Hey hey little Davy
We loved you as children
We always were your believer
Now that we've seen your face
We'll never forget Saturday morning fever

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