CAMP BONES '88
POWELL
PERALTA
BROSE
AND CONS
DEATH OF A SKATEBOARD
KKKKrrrrraaaaaakkkkkkKKKKKKK !!!
My board wrenches apart with a cry,
as it tries to hold itself together with all its
might
splinters hanging out like intestines from at
bleeding hernia.
I have killed it.
Like a karate expert,
I dealt the deadly blow with soft shoes,
rupturing seven plys of rock hard birch and
maple.
bonded together under
hundreds of pounds
of heat and pressure.
My head reels with an intoxicating mixture of
pride and regret.
Feeling bad,
like losing an old friend who helped
fight off rabid dogs in the street,
and rescued you from saintly police
in the underground purgatory of Penn Station;
Yet exhilarated,
in the knowledge that you pushed it too far -
and then some.
I have killed my skateboard.
And I will kill again.
Theo Richter; Islip, New York
CARELESS SKATER
There I was
On my skull and Sword.
I felt so hot
Just cruzin' on my board.
Then came the end of my dream
In the darkness, I was not seen
Here comes the truck
There goes my spleen.
Shannon DuBois; Houston, Texas