There's an alligator in the sewer.
I don't care much, but
Apparently I am alone.
I'm looking around at the people
Now crowded around the
Now-open grate
That used to separate them
From the harmless, overgrown lizard
That hissed and thrashed, trapped and helpless
In the puddle of nasty water
Way down below the street.
The people have been here
Since that kid Corey asked me why
I was face-down, looking in the storm drain.
He left, and they came:
Mothers ordering other mothers' kids
To get away from there for God's sake;
Two policemen, leaning back against their cruiser,
Chuckling and sipping sodas;
A fat sweaty man from the county,
Pulling against the grate.
They all kept one eye on that gator, though.
They've let me stay and watch
Since I was the one who heard that grunt and splash
As I rode by on my metalblue bike,
Just trying to make it home from school.
They haven't noticed that my bike
Is missing its brand-new yellow pads.
The first two sets were stolen.
They were stolen again today --
But I guess they wouldn't know that,
Standing over the grate,
Staring a gator in the face.
Two weeks ago, I was staring into the sewer:
Lying flat against the grate, watching
Drops of blood falling from my face,
Way down into a pool, making runny rainbows.
I couldn’t hear it splash, but I heard
My friend Joey's helpless grunts, choking
With each strike of the bat.
I could hear him thrashing, trying to dodge
Every cut of the knife, crying out when it struck
(He told them to go to hell).
We were trapped. We were helpless.
When it was over, I got up off the metal bars
And ran, but looked back at Joey,
An orange and blue lump against the pavement.
They tell me Joey couldn’t get up.
I haven’t seen him since.
There wasn't a gator in that sewer, though.
I really should go home now --
There's nothing to see here.
They'll help this lizard prisoner out of his cell
And into the canal that runs behind my house.
And they'll go back to their houses
And do it all again tomorrow.
And I'll get on my bike
And try to make it home again
For another day of sunshine and orange trees
And of gators, free and caged.
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POP!
11 years ago
4 comments:
All makes sense. The voice is something I've really struggled with, primarily because it's intended to be something more than just a kid's observation of a scene, but it's also supposed to express a child's fear and lack of trust in authority to protect him. In other words, I want to keep it in the first-person for empathy, but I want the flexibility to use a broader vocabulary (hello, Faulkner-itis). Regardless of how I take it, though, you're right that I need to keep it consistent. The last stanza is child-teenager like, the second is artsy-talk, and the middle waffles between the two.
I can see what you mean about the parallel. Do you want more detail, less detail, or just varied language? I couldn't decide whether the connection would get made without the repetition of language -- it's not an obvious connection.
Also, does it come through that I'm doubling the narrator (and his friend) with the gator, as much as I'm doubling the menace of a gator with the menace of the unnamed criminals? If not, I need to work on that.
Great idea on the "poem within a poem" approach! Thanks. "Corey" was a late addition, so glad to know that experiment's result. I'll probably give my friend a name rather than take away Corey's name -- the kids get names, everyone else is just a faceless "they."
I think you have a very cool narrative here but when I read it I feel like I'm being kept at arm's length.
I agree it needs some kind of setting in the beginning. My first image was of an adult living the old urban legend in New York City.
I also think the earlier suggestion about making the parallel between Joey and the gator more subtle is a good call. But that does seem to be the real meat of the poem so I'd try it a few different ways.
The bike stuff distracted me and I wasn't sure why it was there. What I really want to know about is the relationship between the gator and Joey and you.
I'd think about just calling it Gator.
You know what I think would make the biggest difference? Just more physical detail. About the gator, about the smells, the textures, the landscape, what these kids look like.
Maybe the way you describe things physically will actually tell us a lot about the relationships but in a more subtle way than just talking about the relationships themselves.
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