James Babbs

Places I Remember

the Woolworths restaurant
in the mall
right next to the store and
no matter how many times
I asked my Mom
she never let me
eat there

the backseat of
my parents’ car
on our way home
gazing at the places
passing by the window
trying to remember them
wanting to come back
and see them
again
some day

the baseball diamond
next to the old high school
after dark when
no games were being played
and I sat in
the visitors’ dugout
beneath the falling moonlight
dreaming of
some other place

your house on the corner
the front door with
the knob on
the wrong side and
I always knocked
where the hinges were
waiting for you to answer
not too many years
before you moved away


Blue

I remember
how every wall in
her apartment was white
except the section
at the end of the hallway
that somebody had painted blue
I didn’t know
if that was suppose to
mean something or not
I never asked her about it
and we stopped seeing each other
years ago
but every now and then
I catch myself
thinking about
that blue piece of wall
but I never seem to
think much about her
don’t get me wrong
she wasn’t a bad person
it just didn’t work out
between us
for one reason or another and
maybe
if you went and asked her
she’d tell you
the same thing about me


His poetry collection, Dictionary of Chaos, is available from www.xlibris.com and my chapbook, Another Beautiful Night can be found at www.lulu.com.

Everything Different and Aluminum Christmas Tree by James Babbs

Everything Different

the trees shrouded in mist
obscuring my vision
as it slowly gathers
on the windshield before
I turn the wipers on
70s-era Miles filling
the inside of the car
churning out
his electro-funk fusion
and it’s morning
and I’m driving back
from your place where
we made love the night before
something we hadn’t
planned to happen
and I’m, still, trying
to sort it out
recalling how
I barely said a word as
I got dressed and
told you goodbye
on my way home but
thinking about stopping
somewhere for breakfast
wondering whether I should
call you later today
or should I wait
afraid of
what I should say
everything different
between us now

Aluminum Christmas Tree

did anybody else have an
aluminum christmas tree
growing up in the seventies
with the light that had
this plastic wheel that turned
it had three different colors and
I wonder if they were all the same
I think ours had
orange and blue and green
what the hell were we thinking
I mean
whose bright idea was it
and then people actually went out
and bought them
set them up in their living rooms
you put the light on
so when the wheel turned
the colors reflected off the tree
you didn’t have to bother with
stringing up any lights and
I don’t think we hung
any ornaments on it
I remember seeing pictures
me as a boy sitting there
cross-legged on the floor
wearing my green toughskins and
the funny looking glasses
the floor cluttered with presents
this big grin on my face

Bio: I’m not a real writer but I play one on TV. I work for the government but don’t like to talk about it. I like getting drunk and writing. I don‘t like people who are rude. I like dogs better than cats. I like Fall better than I like Spring. I like it when the tomatoes start ripening. I don’t like okra and never did but I could eat lima beans every day of the week.

Some recent poems have appeared in my dreams and in-Barbaric Yawp, Gutter Eloquence, Opium Poetry, Zygote In My Coffee and ZYX. Thank you for your time.

Blue House,Burning The Tree and What I Saw by James Babbs

Blue House

she’d be sitting on the porch
when I walked by and
when I got close enough
she’d smile and wave but
never speak until
I said something first
then I’d make my way over there
leaning against the rail
enjoying the way she kept
pushing her hair back
behind her ears and
how she threw her head
back and opened her mouth
whenever she started to laugh


Burning The Tree

he knows it will take hours to burn it
so he begins in the morning to give himself
plenty of time before night falls
he cut the tree down last fall
after most of it had been
blown down by the wind
the trunk rotten on the inside and
it had been losing limbs for a long time
the way some people lose their hair as they age
after a storm passed through he’d go out and
gather the limbs from the lawn
but now it’s almost gone and
he hears the songs of the birds and
the sound of Johnny Cash playing in his head and
now and then the passing of a car or
the high-pitched squeals of children
out riding their bikes and having fun


What I Saw

what I saw
when I drove past
were his shoes sticking out
from beneath the blue tarp
EMTs waiting next to
the ambulance and
the lawnmower silent
against the tree
where it died
after running out of gas




Bio: I work for the government but don’t like to talk about it. I like getting drunk and writing. I like Fall better than I like Spring. I like it when the tomatoes start getting ripe. I don’t like okra and never did but I could eat lima beans every day of the week.

Some recent poems have appeared in-Abbey, Gutter Eloquence, Underground Voices, Verse Wisconsin and Zygote In My Coffee.