Saturday At The Canal Poem by Gary Soto

Saturday At The Canal

Rating: 3.7


I was hoping to be happy by seventeen.
School was a sharp check mark in the roll book,
An obnoxious tuba playing at noon because our team
Was going to win at night. The teachers were
Too close to dying to understand. The hallways
Stank of poor grades and unwashed hair. Thus,
A friend and I sat watching the water on Saturday,
Neither of us talking much, just warming ourselves
By hurling large rocks at the dusty ground
And feeling awful because San Francisco was a postcard
On a bedroom wall. We wanted to go there,
Hitchhike under the last migrating birds
And be with people who knew more than three chords
On a guitar. We didn't drink or smoke,
But our hair was shoulder length, wild when
The wind picked up and the shadows of
This loneliness gripped loose dirt. By bus or car,
By the sway of train over a long bridge,
We wanted to get out. The years froze
As we sat on the bank. Our eyes followed the water,
White-tipped but dark underneath, racing out of town.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Pat Mcrouch 09 March 2005

i have a raging boner

61 65 Reply
Pat Mcrouch 09 March 2005

gary soto is a stoner and you know it

43 54 Reply
Kit Kirames 19 December 2006

hi guys its me kity cat

27 64 Reply
yessir 30 March 2022

yessir

0 0 Reply
Alex 20 December 2021

What book did this poem came from

0 0 Reply
Deez 29 November 2021

bruh why do people do this

0 0 Reply
me 20 September 2021

Lookin for a hot stud to me all night heres my number (510) 886-3030

0 0 Reply
Hot man 11 April 2022

oh yeah (907) -538-5060

0 0 Reply
ligma 11 April 2022

suguma

0 0 Reply
MiggyWiggy 20 September 2021

My english teacher made us read this and i didn't understand half of the symbolisms or metaphors.

3 0 Reply
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Gary Soto

Gary Soto

Fresno, California
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