Like a Lovely Madwoman
by Courtney Shroeder

 

A full laugh is like a lovely

madwoman on her way home

humming as her feet trail along.

 

Her song sounds familiar but the words hang

just above the tallest memory I can reach

even in high heels on a Saturday.

 

I hope the madwoman came upon

that song before she went

mad. She must have. Always,

 

she laughs between hums. I have stood

behind her in grocery check-out lines

and something about that green laugh

 

is like a mating call;

it can not be held back;

it must be answered,

is too real to let go without blushing

from my perch atop the day’s fullest breath.

 

Roadside Poem

This poem is more real than you think.

This roadside is on Route 73 in Mt. Laurel.

 

In this poem, you are

late to lunch at the Holly Brook Diner, your mother

is meeting you, she is going to kill you;

you’re sweating; your stomach’s grumbling;

the car is rumbling.

 

This poem is more real than you think.

This car is a ’77 Dodge Dart.

 

In this poem, your car

breaks down miles from anything. You sputter,

sigh, slowly open the old car to warm

wind. You look under the hood and then further,

to the gas station.

 

This poem is more real than you think.

This gas station has a yellow sign.

 

In this poem, your mother

is just off to the side. You can’t quite see

how she’s reacting from your clump of

grass. You sit, pick dandelion weeds,

make a chain.

 

This poem is more real than you think.

You know these characters more than you’ll admit.

 

This poem is your life so read with care.

For your sake, I hope you learn to fix cars

and that your mother has forgiven you everything.

I hope she smiles when you finally enter the diner

sweating and tired.

 

This poem is everything you’re afraid to think.

This life is yours to live with.

 

In the next poem, I wish you a Corvette,

brand new, and a million gas stations all in a row

just in case. I wish you a new and different mother

who likes to sit down with you and make

dandelion chains together.

 

This poem is more real than you think,

dandelions, gas station, Dodge and diner.

This poem is more real than you think;

this roadside seems as good a place as any.

 

COURTNEY SCHROEDER graduated from Dickinson College in 2002 with a degree in creative writing. Her work has been published in the Dickinson Review.

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