Girl Meets Plus One || BOOK 2

We Meet Poetry

NEW YORK UNIVERSITY

"Welcome to NYU's Spring Break Writer's Workshop," a man in a polo with black glasses begins. I sit in the front of the college class tapping my black converse together, excitedly dripping on every word, "I am Mr. Morr, and this week we will be working on the poetic portion of writing. You will be assigned a partner to write a collection of poems with, meaning you will write one, your partner will write one, and then you will write one together." I raise my hand, my blue bracelet hanging off my wrist. He points to me, leaning against his desk awaiting my words.

"So what's the catch?" he tilts his head, and everyone stares at me, "What? Come on, there's always one with these things."

"Smart girl. What's your name?"

"Idina," he looks at his roster, before addressing me again.

"Well, Ms. Jennings, the catch is that they must connect, a theme must be tied between the three. You've got some good intuition," he looks back up returning to his lecture, "Now, as a before camp assignment, we asked you all to write a place poem that offers a sense of discovery through its images. Does everyone have that?" most nod.

"All right, well Ms. Jennings, since you were the first to inquire, I think it's only right to have you recite yours first." I am a little caught off-guard, but stand and slowly walk to the front of the class. I open my journal and scour through the pages until I reach the most recent entry.

*"Too Fast For Me," I announce the title, before beginning.

"This city moves at the speed of light, which surrounds and blinds my peripheral vision. Yellow taxis beep, the clicking of shoes, from heels to sneakers, can be heard in an agglomeration, coming together at different times, making different beats, yet a simple melody,"

"The crackle of rain that falls aimlessly from atop skyscrapers, slowly rolling down my back, making sure to explore every crevice made by the way my jacket forms to my body,"

"Brown hair bounces in the droplets that haven't evaporated, imprinting them deeper into the cloth and my dark locks,"

"Boots beating the ground, running through the pre-made cracks, pushing past others, avoiding touch, avoiding contact, avoiding human connection,"

"People ignoring the rain that craves attention, fiddling endlessly with their media."

"A harsh wave I'm left with from a man in a trench coat and suit, too busy to pause his conversation to perform a common courtesy. Nope, just becomes lost in translation, lost in the crowded streets."

"STOP. We're herded together on the sidewalk near a gutter, forced up against one another, yet avoiding eye contact. Adjusting my jacket I try to look busy, waiting for the bright red dots that make up a halting hand to disperse. Wrinkling my nose I move my hazel glasses,without the use of shaking hands, into a compatible position with the top of my cheeks."

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1,"

"WALK. People try to be first in a line, looking like an array of bodies. White lines blurred from dots that disabled portions of my vision, at least six by my count. No one bothers to see their striking beauty. So crisp, perforated, laying a path to another safe corner."

"With quivering lips pale from brisk air, draped in water from a fresh thunderstorm, I step off the sharp curve, molding my foot with the first line of many," I close my journal.

"Well done Ms. Jennings, the imagery was definitely there, as it very visual and weaved beautifully through the piece. I truly was instantly taken. Vivid and sharp descriptions, making a person experience the busy city. Excellent job," I nod, then sit down as everyone lightly claps.