Monday, February 27, 2012

Freak Magnet

Freak Magnet

A weirdo. A freak.
A stranger in the seat

next to me on the bus.
In the elevator, only us

for thirty-two floors.
The lady who stored

wadded-up Safeway
bags in every halfway

concave vessel: a shoe,
her purse, even a few

in her bra. The one
who called me hon

when I heard her sobbing
in the dressing room, Bring

me another size, would you,
hon, I’m okay, a few

hard days is al
l. An old
man telling me his whole

how-he-got-here bit,
making the pieces fit

grammatically but not
chronologically, he got

to this city in 1979, met
his wife in ’72, let

him think, his son is how
old, and he is now

a doctor, takes a special kind
of person not to mind

the sickness of others,
not like his brothers,

I’m agreeing now, Right,
, picturing his sons fight

each other so they could be called
strong or good or bright or tall.


  1. As a freak magnet, I can relate to this.

  2. We who listen, and look, and are kind and alive to each other, ah, yes, we are needed in the world.

  3. Love what you've captured in this poem, Hannah. The imagery in your poetry always takes me there.

  4. Yikes, this is beautiful, and you are making me wonder how much of a freak I am! Have a lovely week Hannah...

  5. I assume you've heard the song with the same name by the Violent Femmes?

    Ah, the Violent Femmes, an adolescent love of mine.

  6. Within reason, why NOT be a freak magnet? Aren't we here to hear as many stories as we can? What are the non-magnets, the freak-repellants, doing? Playing golf?

    Great subject here, Hannah.

    Hey, thanks for indulging me on FB.

  7. I don't like the word "freak", but I do seem to befriend some unusual people.

  8. oh, how you bring this home. bloody wonderful!



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