Freaky Night (poem)

One more poem from my long forgotten CD. I wrote Freaky Night mostly in my head as I walked around a neighbourhood lake late at night. My footsteps were a metronome and the words fell into their rhythm.

The moon sat low in the blue-black sky,
It looked ten times its natural size,
It shone like gold through the atmosphere,
A heatless sun, radiant and clear
 hey - yeah    hey-hey   hey    hey-yeah

My footsteps clocked on the asphalt path,
My boots hugged tightly to the curves of my calves,
Denim rubbed between my thighs,
My arms swung loosely by my sides
  hey - yeah    hey-hey   hey    hey-yeah

The air was quiet, my breath was strong,
My mouth was dry, my stride was long,
Shadows glowed behind dark shapes,
Unformed silhouettes on the landscape
   hey - yeah    hey-hey   hey    hey-yeah

My neck tightened along my spine,
I turned my head from side to side,
Cold licked my face and nibbled my ears,
It ran its fingers through my hair
   hey - yeah    hey-hey   hey    hey-yeah

My heart knocked inside my chest,
It left a wake across my breasts,
My bladder pressed like a horse at the gate,
My hips slid forward to hold its weight
  hey - yeah    hey-hey   hey    hey-yeah

A wall of cloth sprung in the air,
It trapped my limbs like a rabbit snare,
With a loaded scream caught in my throat,
I kicked and pulled until it let me go
  hey - yeah    hey-hey   hey    hey-yeah

I threw the blanket to the ground,
I cocked a fist and spun around,
Through a knee-deep heap of dirt-dappled rags,
An old man stared at me with moonlit eyes
   hey - yeah    hey-hey   hey    hey-yeah

He never spoke, he didn't move,
He looked like wax, all white and smooth,
I backed away far down the path,
I made for home like a water-doused cat
   hey - yeah    hey-hey   hey    hey-yeah

I was tired and soaked with sweat,
I ran down the walk and up the steps,
The house was smokey, the music loud
The guys sat drinking and playing cards
  hey - yeah    hey-hey   hey    hey-yeah

"Pull up a chair, grab a brew", they said,
I stared at them and I shook my head,
I poked my fingers through the kitchen blinds,
I pulled the slats apart to look outside 
 hey - yeah    hey-hey   hey    hey-yeah  

The moon was higher in the sky
Like a silver button, it had shrunk in size
It seemed to laugh with the old man's face
I crawled on the couch and that's where I stayed

      That freaky night

   hey - yeah    hey-hey   hey    hey-yeah

Categories: Arts and Leisure

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

2 replies

  1. I really like this poem. Its rhythm and chant are great, but of course the part about after you got home, when you didn’t (couldn’t) say anything to the guys says so terribly much about our experience as women (and some men, too). So much we don’t/can’t say, the “can’t” meaning there’s no confidence that it would be heard.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hi again! Sorry, I meant to reply to this comment … was it REALLY 3 weeks ago?!

    Thanks Cat. I hadn’t thought about your observation, and it’s certainly true in many cases.

    When I wrote the poem, I *think* — and here’s the peril of memory — that I was just thinking of the experience of encountering such a surreal situation in an already freaky atmosphere and then entering the normalcy of the house. I suspect this dissonance is a common experience as well. In this state, sometimes one just needs to sit and process before talking.

    I’d also thought that if the old man was real, how I must have frightened him. We were both vulnerable, neither in a position to determine if the other was safe. One threw whatever he had, the other ran.

    Ah, the fruitfulness of poetry :0)


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