I don’t know how we got to that subject.
Sitting on my front porch in chilly autumn
waiting for the bus to come and talking
about band (her) and choir (me) and musical (us).
It must have come in a quiet place
but perhaps there was a reason for it.
She was talking about people she knew
in a place she used to live,
a different state to the south.
She didn’t live there long.
She didn’t live anywhere long,
as I would find out later.
Suddenly, she was telling me
about her friend, or neighbor, or cousin
(I can’t remember)
who tried to kiss her
then pulled her down behind a car where no one else could see.
That was it. She didn’t go on.
But there was an expression on her face that told me all I needed to know.
I was lost.
I had nothing to say, and too much to say.
Should I say, “What happened?”
“I’m sorry.”
Or simply, “I know.”
Instead, I made some sort of joke
something that we both used to get away from the subject
like I always do
and probably will continue to do forever.
And I don’t know if that makes me a bad friend
or a good friend.
This is a powerful poem. The form of it makes read it through in a rapid way, feeling the events rush faster and faster as the situation becomes more awkward. You've encapsulated an event we can all relate to; we've all felt completely unsure of how to respond to a situation. Your line, "band (her) and choir (me) and musical (us)," deftly combines the two people with their differences and similarities, and finding a common place. Perhaps it's that uncertainty of finding a common place that makes these situations awkward. We're uncertain of where exactly we should move our emotions to include those of others. I enjoy the way you end the poem with a question. Such a delicate questions demands the reader to think about themselves in a similar situation. Good job.
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