Author Information
Heron Clan Feb4, 2024 Berlin poem, Brenda Kidd, courtesy of a blinker
Bricks of Concrete: August 13, 1961 Memories of the Berlin Wall
Bricks of Concrete: August 13, 1961
Memories of the Berlin Wall
Isolated in a sea of concrete, that
Are crushed to mold barriers to light,
Guns bear down on that summer day,
That grey summer day with sweaters on.
Cold, and separated, fear, and confused,
She’s pressed up against chain link fences
Of great height.
Tank barricades and midnight alerts,
Fears of the orphaned lives.
Small child lost in a crush of crowds,
“Why are there guns, Daddy?”
“Why are the people crying, Mommy?”
As she, the child, is rushed against the
Fence of chain.
“They want to take your freedom, Daughter,”
“Surrounding you with industrial brick.”
Crushed and pillioned, of torn down buildings,
Homes of people, lost and stolen,
To make their bricks, hastened to hold them, all
In, on that cold day, grey, in August
Of the Wall.
Brenda (Kidd)
You told me about sex.
Remember when we lived
at the swimming pool?
I can’t get no,
boom, boom, boom, booming
in the dank concession area,
echoing in the open-aired basement.
Satisfaction,
bam bam bam
pounding from the jukebox,
the wah wah wah wah, wah wah
sound, rounding off the pillars, and
the puddled concrete, slick.
That was where we’d go to get our
suicide drinks.
Pushing through the tall chairs,
the teenaged faceless person
would laugh when we’d ask for,
A Suicide, please.
Dispensing all the flavors on tap,
they’d hand it to us in tall paper cups,
straw and shaved ice,
our membership bracelet tags
clinking on the bar's counter top.
That day we sat and talked and sipped
at the metal tables heaped with towels
outside the chain linked fence
surrounding the laughing, screaming children,
splashes and whistles
and the smell of chlorine,
the Alabama sun hidden,
our tongues purple.
I never really liked you.
You made me feel small, dumb,
though I was 2 cup sizes
bigger than you
and sat at the front
of the class.
But, I didn’t know about sex.
I was 12, or almost 12,
Or maybe 10, or beyond 10,
but I didn’t know.
So, with two hands in the air
you showed me, being so knowing,
how sex was done.
You made an ok sign,
held it to the sky,
and pierced it with the index finger
from your other hand.
I rode home,
peddling in a blaze, sick
on suicides,
Rolling Stones, blaring
in my head,
with my new found knowledge.
I never really liked you.
You were my best friend.
The Courtesy of a Blinker
The courtesy of a blinker
Could profoundly affect
Humanity
The courtesy of a turn signal
Could change the course
Of all mankind
If we show each other
Consideration
Showed each other
Which way we mean to go
It could trickle down
To our children
Or up
To our heads of state...
The courtesy of a blinker
Could change the course of humanity
A tilt of the hat
A how do you do
Could make the world
Different
It could trickle down
To our children
Or up
To our heads of state.
