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Rate this poem:4.3 / 4 votes

My Stanyan Street

For B. and J.
J. T. and J. S.
and…

1.
Alamar Avenue became my Stanyan Street
After moving from rented rooms and other people’s lives
Their living rooms kitchens and odors
After the divorce.
Across the street the park felt friendlier
On days and weekends
Lonelier on sleepless nights
Scarier after midnight.

I got tired of lonely
pizza parlor dinners grading papers
Sneaking into other people’s checked-out motel rooms
Just to get two hours of sleep.
I got tired of 16-hour days
Stops at campgrounds for a shower and a shave
Parking lots to catch a nap
Eat a fast-food lunch or dinner
Before the break up I got tired of making excuses
Pulling reasons from the air
When my children sometimes greeted me at the door
Or late at night when I came into their room to say goodnight.
My heart grew the heaviest those days
I dragged it to and from work
Hid it inside my teacher’s desk
Until I could sneak it back into my briefcase

At home I pretended to be intact
Even though I slept on the floor
Cast out from my own bed
Unwanted.
I coached smiled pretended
Tended the yard and garden
Kept a six-pack and a radio in the garage
Isn’t that what all men do?

The breaking point came over time
The wedding album thrown whole into
The Franklin Stove that meant to keep us warm
Smashed Lladros, dinner plates, treasured trophies


The fight over a shovel in the back yard
A neighbor’s call to the authorities
My daughter’s sad eyes and sudden distance
My son became a man who stood up against me.

2.
We tried we tried as hard as we could
Moved on our separate ways yet still remain tied
The house is someone else’s now
Never became my castle never became our home.

After years of being and feeling lost on other people’s couches
I found Alamar Avenue
It had a fireplace, backyard, and privacy
No more sleeping bag or pillows and blankets from a closet.

B. was young, creative, smart
Strung words together more poetically than me
Insightful, leaning into the cosmos away from reality
I wanted her touch and a piece of her soul.

We fed each other our needs and wants
And simple daily interactions
But she looked elsewhere beyond me
For a man less practical with more moves and brawn.

J.  I don’t remember how we met
I thought she would be the one
But she like a butterly
Needed her wings more than she needed me.

She wanted a money tree to land on
Gold that shined more brightly than my rock garden
Or any string of pearls or words I could come up with
She is a butterfly that visits me from time to time.

3.
J.T. followed me home not even on a dare
After just a couple of drinks and promises
She stayed around while I went to work
Waited for me, craved me, crawled to me

I never questioned her intentions
She never questioned mine
Until midnight runs got boring and tiring for me
I didn’t want to do it anymore.

J. S. just jumped into my arms one night
Wrapped her legs around me before last call
Buy me a drink and take me home she said
I did.

Oh by the way and what’s your name?
The beginning of something fresh
Exciting and unpredictable
Like the shooting star that crossed the sky after our first dinner date.

But life’s sudden changes came unexpectedly
I had less time for you and you for me
My best memory of you remains
Inside the beach hut like Tarzan’s Jane.

4.
I’ve moved on from Alamar Avenue
Circumstances changed
I left the rock garden in place
And the patio pavers in my design.

From time to time
I peek over the fence - they’re still there
So are the memories of you, of all of you
Underneath the streetlight across the park.

Alamar Avenue
Now some houses have fresh paint
New fencing to keep the sidewalk where it belongs
New neighbors not as friendly

The park is always inviting until after dusk
The playgrounds for the kids the international festivals for culture and food
Dog walkers horseshoe games the grounds maintained  
The homeless still keep their distance on the other side of Mission creek.

About this poem

Homage to Rod McKuen

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Written on December 07, 2024

Submitted by gbaranoff on December 21, 2024

Modified by gbaranoff on December 22, 2024

3:54 min read
219 Views

Gregory Baranoff

 · 1951 · Shanghai

Gregory Baranoff was born in Shanghai, China to Russian parents and came to the United States in the early sixties. more…

All Gregory Baranoff poems | Gregory Baranoff Books

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Discuss the poem My Stanyan Street with the community...

9 Comments
  • Inactiveuser
    Great poem
    LikeReply31 mins ago
  • alanswansea18
    Well done
    LikeReply2 days ago
  • delano
    Good
    LikeReply4 days ago
  • Darkness
    Enjoyed it thoroughly
    LikeReply9 days ago
  • @Lbfisher
    Such vivid imagery, great storytelling. So rich. The coloring, the texture, the relationships. Great work. Well done.
    LikeReply15 days ago
  • rickscorpio
    I like how this poem weaves together the struggles of starting over and the memories tied to a place like Alamar Avenue. It’s raw and relatable, especially how it captures those fleeting connections and the weight of moving on. 
    LikeReply1 month ago
    • gbaranoff
      Thank you very much! I was heavily influenced by McKuen's poetry when I was young and re-read Stanyan Street and Other Sorrows recently. I decided to follow his outline.
      LikeReply 11 month ago
    • rickscorpio
      I know the feeling, when I was younger, I loved how dr. sues wrote as well as got into where the sidewalk ends by
      Shel Silverstein, loved the rhythm and realized if it slow down, I could write out events in my life using the same style. 
      LikeReply 11 month ago
    • gbaranoff
      Yes! I was also influenced by Silverstein
      LikeReply1 month ago
  • Smedley655
    I like your story, sorry about your bad experiences, sounds like you rise above it all.
    LikeReply1 month ago
    • gbaranoff
      We all have them so it's best we move on, otherwise we might end up in the park with a bottle in one hand and broken dreams in the other.
      LikeReply1 month ago
  • ladyygracious
    A poignant and introspective reflection on lost love and unfulfilled dreams, capturing the bittersweet longing for what could have been
    LikeReply1 month ago
    • gbaranoff
      Thank you. There was that longing. To remain healthy it's good to have new dreams and chances and just simply move on...
      LikeReply1 month ago
    • ladyygracious
      Embracing new dreams and chances can be incredibly revitalizing. It's a beautiful reminder that life is full of possibilities, and sometimes, moving on is the best way to nurture our growth and well-being.
      LikeReply 11 month ago
    • gbaranoff
      Yes!
      LikeReply1 month ago
  • ladyygracious
    LikeReply1 month ago

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