poetry to pair with Feed

I liked Feed a lot, but here is one that goes with Speak:

Bike Ride with Older Boys 

The one I didn't go on.

I was thirteen,
and they were older.
I'd met them at the public pool. I must

have given them my number. I'm sure 

I'd given them my number,
knowing the girl I was...

It was summer. My afternoons
were made of time and vinyl.
My mother worked,
but I had a bike. They wanted

to go for a ride.
Just me and them. I said 
okay fine, I'd
meet them at the Stop-n-Go
at four o'clock.
And then I didn't show.

I have been given a little gift-
something sweet
and inexpensive, something
I never worked or asked or said
thank you for, most
days not aware
of what I have been given, or what I missed-

because it's that, too, isn't it?
I never saw those boys again.
I'm not as dumb
as they think I am

but neither am I wise. Perhaps 

it is the best
afternoon of my life. Two
cute and older boys
pedaling beside me-respectful, awed. When we

turn down my street, the other girls see me...

Everything as I imagined it would be. 

Or, I am in a vacant field. When I
stand up again, there are bits of glass and gravel
ground into my knees.
I will never love myself again. 
Who knew then
that someday I would be

thirty-seven, wiping
crumbs off the kitchen table with a sponge, remembering
them, thinking
of this-

those boys still waiting
outside the Stop-n-Go, smoking
cigarettes, growing older.


For _Feed_, this one by Malvina Reynolds comes to mind.
It was sung by Pete Seeger in the 60's

Little Boxes
Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1962 Schroder Music 
Company, renewed 1990. Malvina and her husband were on their way from where 
they lived in Berkeley, through San Francisco and down the peninsula to La 
Honda where she was to sing at a meeting of the Friends' Committee on 
Legislation (not the PTA, as Pete Seeger says in the documentary about 
Malvina, "Love It Like a Fool"). As she drove through Daly City, she said 
"Bud, take the wheel. I feel a song coming on."


Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,1
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.