About a year ago, I had the honor of taking a writing workshop with poet Mark Doty. Besides being a great writer, he is intelligent, funny, and an all around nice guy. As an exercise, he asked us to draw a floor plan of the first house we remember living in. Given that I hadn't lived in the Rhode Island house where I grew up in 11 years, I didn't expect to remember as much as I had. Once completed, we added at least one specific detail to each room. I could have been a unique design feature, or an item we had in the room. Step three was to choose one of those details and write a poem about it. Here is mine:
It takes up almost half the living room
With it's ugly, tan L-shape.
But to me, it's more than just a couch.
More than just an eyesore
Dying to be thrown away.
It's where I learned to read,
Where my family come together to catch up,
Where my brother and I find entertainment.
Bored on a rainy day,
We take the thick, square cushions off their frame
And build a fort.
Sorry Mom.
Can't come in with out the pass word.
Getting out of the fort, my brother knocks all the pillows on me.
I'm buried.
We both laugh as I crawl my way out of the darkness.
After I'm free, he takes a running jump
And lands on the comfy pile of pillows.
Not wanting to miss out,
I follow him.
Soon, the smell of chicken and stuffing starts to fill the air.
So we reluctantly put the cushions back in place
And start getting ready for dinner.
Leaving the couch as a couch.
For now!!
Keep in mind, this was off the top of my head and I haven't worked on it since. No, it's not a masterpiece. But it does bring back wonderful memories. Both of the workshop and of the ugly, tan couch.
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