two poems

by Allison Noonan

CL > georgia > statesboro > all personals > missed connections

Smoking beside a traffic cone - w4m - 25

Two years ago, I was walking home from work

late at night, listening to classic rock

through free, shitty airplane headphones

when I smelled the smoke of your cigarette

and looked up to the sky.

Your hand was resting on the window ledge,

propped up by a bright orange traffic cone,

careful not to set off the dorm fire alarms.

I wonder if you ever did get caught,

or what happened to the traffic cone.

Whether or not taking it caused a collision,

whether or not you cared.

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Preserved in this milk jug

Three chimes of a cuckoo clock every hour

nearly on the hour, off by a few minutes.

I wake up to a ghost in the rocking chair

and the garage raccoons' negotiations

over the lawnmower’s worth.

Beer cans pop and unpop,

crumpled earlier in the night,

when everything was still alive.

Here is my birthday robin,

preserved in this milk jug.

He’s friends with the blue jays,

but has no allegiance to catbirds

who meow incessantly for grape jelly.

I may forget a name

or a face with ease,

but I’ll try to keep shards of them stored

in the unreliability of my memory,

like the tea shop boy with chlorastrolite eyes

naming off green, lemon, ginger,

lavender, peppermint…

Riding down the glass road,

cool air beating my face blue,

I think about how I’ll find my way back, someday.

Later, I’ll floss the bugs from between my teeth. 

Photo of Allison Noonan

BIO: Allison Noonan is a poet who currently resides in Savannah, Georgia. She typically writes through a surreal and gothic lens, melding the mundanity of everyday life with dreamlike escapism. Her three cats are formally named Ellen Ripley, Cowboy Bebop, and Spaghetti Western. If you like her work, keep up with her via Instagram @allisonnoonan.