I was quickly interested in Frank O’Hara’s structure of “A Step Away from Them” While I am not a poet, and do not actually read much poetry, this was fun to try to imitate and I enjoyed the experience.
A STEP AWAY FROM REAL
It’s my one free hour, so I go
for a walk among the pastel-colored
houses. First, down the alley
where young mothers feed their loud
laughing kids goldfish
and popsicles, with sunhats
they protect their fair-skinned
faces from the sun, I guess. Then onto
the street where the wealthy men walk
their pampered doodles as they consume
airpods. The sun is bright, but the
trees block the rays. I look
at millions in houses. There
are kids scrolling their phones in luxury.
On
to the next street, where the houses
grow bigger than even before, and further
do dreams have to fall from up there. A
latino stands in the doorway with a
broom, sweeping an already clean porch.
A blonde glistening housewife watches: she
smiles and rubs her apron. Everything
slowly stills: it is 2:30 of
a Tuesday.
Nude in daylight is a
a numb body, as Taylor Swift would
write, as are leopard heels in hell.
I stop for a drink of water at the trail’s
entrance. The runner wives club, elite
invitation only, bend and stretch.
All puffy lipped. A lady in
sweats on such a day puts her baby
in a swing.
There are several envy-colored
tourists on the loop today, which
makes it feel false with hope. First
dreams die, then whispered arguments,
then the falling apart. But is the
island as full as the world is full, of destruction?
And one has laughed and one heavily breathes,
past the marsh where even gators are in danger
and hope drowns in the sludge and
children lower crab traps,
which they’ll soon forget. I
used to think this place had better air
than there.
A pace through the woods of pretty despair
and back to the house. My heart is in my
stomach, it is the island of falsities.
Dang Jenny! While you say you aren’t a poet, you write a mean verse.
I like how you followed the flow of O’Hara but you put your own spin on things. I went back and forth between thinking that this was Mt. P because of that phrase, but no, it must be the peninsula because of this line, but maybe it’s James Island, but that doesn’t fit, so it must be Mt. P. By the end, I felt like maybe it didn’t matter exactly because it could have been any or all of them. And maybe that bit of universality is what O’Hara was hoping to achieve as well.
I think that the way you kept it centered on the action was interesting. The commentary happens in your descriptions, and that’s so fitting. Isn’t the way we choose to describe a thing the most telling thing about it? Interspersed in your descriptions are the pop culture references that anchor this piece to this time, but also make it timeless, in a way. It feels like the narrator has lost her love for this place, become disenchanted. It’s a different feel from O’Hara, who seems disenchanted with society instead of the place. Still, both pieces seem to have a melancholic feel to them, a longing for something that used to be, but is no longer.
I think you did an amazing job of capturing the essence of what O’Hara was trying to say.