Ms.+Wara's+Found+Poems

for Crystal May 4, 2012
 * Before Students and Broken Cars**

Remember whipping ketchup packets at each other from the drive thru window and shouting, **"I don't want no ketchup, George"** in spite of customers? Getting fired from McDonald's for quoting //Of Mice and Men// too loudly didn't make our English teachers laugh as hard as we did.

Remember how it was when we had nothing and lived in a dirty slanted apartment on Scott Street? Remember the abandoned and broken couch we rescued? The thick Ramon scent that Febreze could not tame and the deep mystery stains on the middle cushion we could not remove?

Remember wishing we were older until we were? I bought the stick. You peed on it and waited until it turned blue. I convinced you **we have a future** and that life didn't end with a baby.

Remember what we talked about before students and broken cars? Before life hardened and took us with it? Remember this:
 * If you happen to get in trouble like you've done before,**
 * I want you to come right here** no matter where I am.

Waiting for Father's Day Mindy Wara April 3, 2011

The raindrops **rippled on the edge of the deck** as I stood outside of the screen door of my father’s house. My sister and brother waited in my crappy red convertible on the darkening pavement staying dry.

I knocked twice. He wasn’t home. Silence cut through the rain. I jogged back to my car. Drenched. I wrung out my gray sweatshirt before taking my place behind the wheel.

The keys in the ignition **lay silent**. I leaned my seat back and **stared at the ceiling**. They felt like hours in my soggy socks and shoes as they lightly rested on the peddles.
 * A minute passed, and another minute.**

It crept in from outside. The **snapping noise** of Megan’s seat belt snapped me back to life. The cool worn leather of the steering wheel seemed to pulse under my hands as I gripped harder. Finally tired
 * The silence came into** the car.

of waiting I smashed the palm of my hand into the horn. A **gnawing sound** bleated from the car, harsh, brittle, and telling of the car’s age.

The lights of the house finally flipped on as he **came out of the night** and waited by the door. We reluctantly spilled out of the car and shuffled to the house with our gifts, the wrapping paper growing damp with every soggy step.



As if Nothing Had Happened Mindy Wara April 3, 2011

The **gnawing sound** did not alarm Lennie until he felt the prick of the mouse’s teeth sink into his hand. He instinctively squeezed. The **snapping noise** echoed in his ears as he reluctantly pried open his his fist. He stroked its sleek, greasy gray head as if he were denying it had ever happened.

mouse in his left pocket, picked up some sticks, and headed back to camp. The sound of his heavy **footsteps died away** as he **came out of the night** and into the clearing and rejoined his friend, as if nothing had happened.
 * Silence fell** as he delicately placed the freshly crushed