We’re writing prose poems in my Creative Writing class. I told my students if prose poems were an actor, they’d be Zooey Deschanel. Am I wrong…? Below is a poem I wrote and a picture I did not take.
Zooey Deschanel is a Prose Poem
I take off my jacket and put it over a puddle. You say, “What the heck, man. This isn’t 1953.” “Those are killer song lyrics,” I reply. You say, “Yeah. Thanks. I’ll call it, Chivalry Died with Track Jackets Bought from the Clearance Rack at Target.” We walk down the movie set boulevard and you mumble something about the hum of nighttime city lights, high heels, and hook-errrrrrrrs. I hang on your annunciation patterns like a smitten linguist. You swing your hands back and forth and sing, “Red Rover, Red Rover, send Daniel right over. “But Zooey, I’m right next to you,” I say. “Then it worked.” The wind that blows your hair is powered by a fan. The romantic nighttime sky is the result of clever lighting. But I swear the stars are real. “If you wish upon one of those, you’ll probably still never become one,” you say. “What about you?” I ask. “Genetics,” you respond. We continue walking and you ask for my jacket. “Oh, do you want to make a polyester bonnet?” You say, “No. I’m just cold.”