How It Started
#1
How It Started

You had just turned fourteen
and I was just shy
of seventeen.

I know because it was February.

I know it was February 
because it was the first 
in a string of snow days
leading up to my birthday.

A bunch of us had ascended 
that crazy, winding hill on Brant Street 
to get to Steve's house
with schoolbags full of beer
and shitty weed.

Steve was probably the least
cool of all of us, but his
father was successful and the house 
on the hill had a basement
furnished with a pool table, dartboard,
air-hockey and a bar. 

I met you by the stereo
that Steve had warned everyone
was German and not to be fucked with.

You were rifling through the records,
crying. You had wine on your shirt.

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#2
(03-13-2018, 04:17 PM)Tiger the Lion Wrote:  How It Started

You had just turned fourteen
and I was just shy
of seventeen.

I know because it was February.

I know it was February 
because it was the first 
in a string of snow days
leading up to my birthday.

A bunch of us had ascended 
that crazy, winding hill on Brant Street 
to get to Steve's house
with schoolbags full of beer
and shitty weed.

Steve was probably the least
cool of all of us, but his
father was successful and the house 
on the hill had a basement
furnished with a pool table, dartboard,
air-hockey and a bar. 

I met you by the stereo
that Steve had warned everyone
was German and not to be fucked with.

You were rifling through the records,
crying. You had wine on your shirt.


i like those seemingly honest and casual lines that are full of double meanings (shy, first, ascended).
love the last 2 lines. there´s something very emphatic and at the same time defenseless about that (depending on which view the reader choses).
...
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#3
I really like the tension between 'up on the hill' and 'down in the basement'. Kind of polarises the angst of a teenager. Great final lines. Thanks for posting.
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

~ Rumi
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#4
I realize this isn't in a critique forum. I've hesitated from commenting because I couldn't see any area that really bothered me. I realized that that isn't a great reason not to comment...so,

(03-13-2018, 04:17 PM)Tiger the Lion Wrote:  How It Started--I always like titles like this that are rich with promise and tension.

You had just turned fourteen
and I was just shy--Normally, I hate just but it works in this reminiscence. I love the break on shy. It may not be true of the speaker but it's a subtle nod to the hesitancy.
of seventeen.

I know because it was February.--again I'm liking the halting stacked delivery

I know it was February 
because it was the first--again you use the line break to expertly imply a possibility about the speaker. 
in a string of snow days
leading up to my birthday.

A bunch of us had ascended--I know I may be reading into this but this feels like a metaphor for who's had sex and who hasn't. 
that crazy, winding hill on Brant Street 
to get to Steve's house
with schoolbags full of beer
and shitty weed.

Steve was probably the least
cool of all of us, but his--not liking the line break here
father was successful and the house 
on the hill had a basement
furnished with a pool table, dartboard,
air-hockey and a bar. 

I met you by the stereo
that Steve had warned everyone
was German and not to be fucked with.

You were rifling through the records,
crying. You had wine on your shirt.
Very coming of age. Liked the read.

Best,

Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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