Lori Boulard

Controlled Rebellion

Poem by Lori Boulard

Trouble always starts with a smile,
especially when punctuated with deep
hazel eyes. Come seven on a Saturday,
my heartbeat syncs with the song on the radio,
my left foot sinks as it races nightfall,
and the goblin within heads for
where the wild things are.

Wild nights – Wild nights! Were I with thee…
we would charge the alleys of hailstorm abandon.
But beware the badgering foe of fun:
the Lilliputian leash of children asunder.
A mental head-on collision ensues,
night racing past me twenty years to victory.
I surrender the sport and retreat to the driveway.

I am far from curfew,
and this is not my parents’ home.
Yet, I am doomed to restriction nonetheless.

Homebound, I look to my hero for salvation. Going deep
into his eyes, he awaits me on his motorcycle –
two-wheeled freedom revving my memory;
black chrome foreplay speeding toward graduation.
My domesticated rebel now rides a Toyota
that seats six, wired for every form of digital libido traveling.
Psychic in ways of a married man,
he picks up the scent of impending desperation.
With a sparkle of green punctuating his gaze,
he pours me a glass of my only surviving vice,
and smiles.

Comments about Controlled Rebellion by Lori Boulard

  • Roger Cornish (2/29/2008 2:36:00 AM)

    I agree with John below....
    This is timeless!
    Wonderful, wonderful....

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  • Declan McHenry (3/26/2007 4:45:00 PM)

    I had reference to this piece tucked away. Came back for another reading. Still great. A grand write Lori.(Report)Reply

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  • John Kay (1/17/2006 2:45:00 PM)

    Lori...Is this not a lament for one's lost adolescence. Is it not about growing up and taking responsibility as painful as that might be. Is it not in the end about finding a way to have it both ways, finding solace in a glass of wine. Is it not about paradise lost. This is the big picture, the main event, and to illuminate all this, you may need to go several more rounds in the ring with it, showing you have real heart and guts. Hope that helps.(Report)Reply

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  • Max Reif (1/16/2006 7:17:00 AM)

    Touching and original. I've never seen anything on quite this subject before. It's forthright, funny and a little sad, leavened and sublimated with acceptance and an enduring partnership.(Report)Reply

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  • Uriah Hamilton (1/14/2006 12:03:00 PM)

    Great poem, I loved all the twisting word paths it took, but why is life such a killer, praise God for rebellion, it is the only thing that makes sense.(Report)Reply

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  • Gina Onyemaechi (1/13/2006 3:56:00 PM)

    Take heart, speaker. One day one of your children might ask you 'Where are you going at this hour? ', and then 'When can we expect you back? ' A 56-year-old friend of mine told of having recently been subjected to such interrogation from her 24-year-old son...and of taking great pleasure in answering as she had answered the last time she was so questioned,42 years before!(Report)Reply

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  • Declan McHenry (1/13/2006 2:53:00 PM)

    I so get this Lori. Very touching and provocative. Must be that stage in life. An insightful observation and an excellent write.(Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, January 13, 2006

Poem Edited: Monday, April 24, 2006