image from Delta Flight Museum
Bitch by the Bay
“A bitch is the opposite of a whore. A bitch does
not need anybody--or at least that’s what she
would like people to think.”
--Saint Paul Trois Chateaux.
I was born in Seattle,
on Flag Day, a few minutes
past midnight in 1944.
Growing up, learning
the city by hopping
like a gypsy locust
from suburb to suburb,
I became very proud
of my seven-hilled city,
like a throned monarch
hemmed in by parallel mountain ranges,
and teeming port
for our inland sea of Puget Sound,
with its dozen lush islands,
served by a fleet of super ferries.
When I was twelve,
I began to take buses
into the heart of downtown,
to see movies,
to people watch,
and to marvel at the eclectic mix
of modern and pioneer buildings,
watched over by the Smith Tower,
the tallest building east
of the Mississippi.
Seattle became a part of me,
of who I was, and who I’d become.
It felt like Eden before the fall,
like Rome at its peak, full
of artists and intellectuals
like Paris in the 20’s.
I spent a couple of years
in San Diego in the Navy
in the mid-60’s.
Seattle was a joy to come home to,
all opened-armed, wild wet kisses
and blow jobs on a regular basis.
I returned to Southern California
in the mid-70’s, as an actor,
all starry-eyed, naive and vulnerable.
LA hardened my edges,
and smashed my rosy glasses.
Acting was replaced by Teaching.
By the early 80’s I pined
for deep green forests,
snow-capped fire-mountains,
and vivid memories of the past.
So I headed North again.
But Seattle did not welcome me
this time. It had become
a place to chase ghosts,
a place of a spiraling cost of living,
a place of a dozen new skyscrapers,
and a gaggle of confusing freeways.
Seattle took on the role
of bitter ex-wife, who remarried
for money, who belittled my cherished
memories, who would not even
acknowledge me in public.
I’ll tell you what--when an ex-lover becomes
a haughty bitch, there’s nothing to do
but break up with her, find
another lover, and make
a new home.
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub
11 comments:
Very memorable description of Seattle from the comparison to Eden, Rome and Paris to the place where one can only chase ghosts, from home to the desire to make a new home.
love how you detail Seattle through all the different experiences but that second to last stanza is one I enjoyed reading over and over again
I really like this writing, Glenn. The way you described Seattle in the before and then the after was like a poetic history lesson. Life can be strange sometimes, or rather people can be strange. The ex was definitely shortsighted. Amazing writing!
I like your bittersweet travelogue through the decades and how your perspective shifts. Very vivid descriptions.
Your description of Seattle and its changes was most interesting!
Seattle took on the role
of bitter ex-wife, who remarried
for money, who belittled my cherished
memories, who would not even
acknowledge me in public.
Brings to memory Miranda Lamberts song: "You Can't go Home Again!"
This is rich and robust, like a hot cup of Seattle java. Really a pleasure to read. You have seen a lot of changes over the years here in the Emerald city. This is splendid writing Glenn! Whats interesting is I grew up in Cincinnati, a city also know for it’s seven hills (Mount Adams, Walnut Hills, Mount Auburn, Vine Street Hill, College Hill, Fairmount, and Mount Harrison) - which our 2 home cities do share in common with Rome. Cincinnati was named after Quintius Cincinnatus, who was a Roman patrician, statesman, and military leader of the early Roman Republic.
love your detailed description of your life and seattle ... sadly you sound quite bitter about women like the majority of my neighbours ...
This is one of those poems that makes me want to write a poem. And also one of those poems that I wish I'd written first.
Mostly you can't go home again. But it sounds like the good memories remain. (K)
My little one-room school is gone, the little roadside church of my childhood is gone, even my high school has been torn down. Most of the barns in the tidy little farms are gone or falling down, the fence rows have been removed (to gain another couple rows of crops), and a recent trip "home" left me with abject sadness. It's so true, you can't go home again.
Oh I do love the descriptions on the past and how it changed... maybe if you had not seen the before, the present would have looked better... but as it is you have to find another place...great description with the ex-wife.
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