Nickname

[tectak]

v. 5 adjusted S. 2, which further adjusted the orderings of other stanzas, though much of the information is the same


nickname

As Buck drives us to practice,
looking for gas money
under the red light,

his license flashes into view.
And there it is
framed in leather;

not the nickname
I have come to identify
with his six foot frame,

the way a flute flutters in his hand.
On that piece of Pennsylvania plastic
sits a first name below a photograph,

and we have never been introduced.
An arm length away,
the ink curves like a contract,

closed and buried in a wallet.
The first name, spoken,
addresses no one in the car,

escaping the silence
we share at the crosswalk -
the driver,

unchained to the likeness
crammed in his pocket,
and a passenger,

rubbing his arms
where bonds rattle,
surface, and sink.




V. 4 attempting to address enjambment issues/ cohesion. new line breaks.




As Buck drives us to practice,
looking for gas money
under the red light,

his license flashes into view.
The scrawl below the photograph
on that piece of Pennsylvania plastic

curves in ink like a contract
closed and buried in a wallet.
The first name

no longer captures his six foot frame,
the way a flute flutters in his hand.
Spoken, it addresses no one in the car,

escaping the silence
we share at the crosswalk -
the driver,

unchained to the likeness
crammed in his pocket,
and a passenger,

rubbing his arms
where bonds rattle,
surface, and sink.







V. 3 cut down on many of the images

nickname

As Buck drives us to practice,
my thoughts turn to the signature
bound to his license.

On that piece of Pennsylvania
plastic, another identity curves
in ink like a contract

left in a closed and buried
wallet. The first name
no longer captures

his six foot frame, the way
a flute flutters in his hand.
Saying it aloud

addresses no one in the car;
it only escapes
in the silence shared by driver,

unchained to the likeness
crammed in his pocket,
and passenger,

rubbing his arms
where bonds rattle,
surface, and sink.


V. 2
removed S. 1
added "his first" to new S. 1
penultimate stanza: switched "unscathed" to "unchained"

nickname

Perhaps his first name
could not capture how his full,
six foot five physique

could navigate the channels
of a silver plated flute.
So when Buck drives me to his concert,

my thoughts turn to the signature
bound to his license.
Another identity curves

in ink like a contract
left in a closed
and buried wallet, forgotten.

His wrists, unchained
to the likeness
stashed in his pocket,

draw me to my arms
where bonds rattle,
surface and sink.




V. 1

At some point,
"Frank" no longer fit
his six foot frame.

Perhaps the name
could not capture his size,
the glasses, circled

around his nose, or how his breath
navigates a silver plated flute.

So when Buck
drives me to a concert,
my thoughts turn to the signature

bound to his license,
where another identity
curves in ink like a contract

left on a table in a locked
and buried room, forgotten.

His wrists, unscathed
above a steering wheel,
draw me to my arms

where bonds rattle,
surface and sink.

Like billy, I come late to this piece. A synopsis seems moot. May I lapse into rhetorical reasoning?
A feature of all of your work is the incomprehensible love affair with flaky structure. It confuses your readers a little but confuses you a lot! Could you just try, as an exercise in self discipline, to decide on poetry verse-form or prose?
Concentrate on telling the reader what you want to be clearly understood and then re-read what you have written and ask yourself a question which you must answer honestly. The question is this. "If I rewrite this piece to make it unclear would it be improved?"
Answers in a featurless, russet-hued encapsulator fabricated from fibrous lignin-free poly-filamented pressed organic fibres please.
Best,
Tectak