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Jason Crane Posts

POEM: Officer Unfriendly

Published 20 August 2023 by Jason Crane

Officer Unfriendly

I would grab a bullhorn and taunt the cops.
I’d make fun of them right to their faces,
from a few feet away, to make the workers laugh.
Picket lines are long and hard and too cold or too hot.
Morale is kept up by humor as much as righteousness.
I shouted insults at the cops, whose faux unions
are always on the side of the oppressor, who stand
in their own picket lines, firmly opposed to justice.
I used my whiteness, my maleness, as a shield,
provoking and absorbing and deflecting their anger
from the workers who didn’t look like me,
who couldn’t afford any trouble,
but who were marching anyway because
they knew that enough was enough.
I didn’t teach my kids to ask cops for help.
I told them to never talk to the police.
Unless you’ve got a bullhorn and a big crowd.
Then you can make an exception.

/ / /

19 August 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 29 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: The First Time

Published 18 August 2023 by Jason Crane

The First Time

Junior high auditorium.
(It’s an old folks home now.)
Jazz ensemble show.
They got to the solo spot.
Mr. Boyce (now deceased)
stepped to the electric piano.
A kid rose in the sax section,
the school’s soprano sax shining
in the stage lights, to take a solo.
The drummer kicked into action,
Mr. Boyce pounded the keys,
the kid closed his eyes and blew
until a whole new future
stretched out in front of him.

/ / /

18 August 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 28 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: Worth It

Published 18 August 2023 by Jason Crane

Worth It
for John

The scar on my left knee
is from crashing a BMX bike
I was only riding to be your dad.

/ / /

17 August 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 27 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: Leftovers

Published 17 August 2023 by Jason Crane

Leftovers

A flood took the journals and photos.
An auction, the music and memories.
A minivan, too small for the books.
I am what remains.

/ / /

16 August 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 26 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: Treasure Chest

Published 15 August 2023 by Jason Crane

Treasure Chest
for Bernie

I cradled you in my arms as the anesthetist
held the tiny mask over your face.
Your soft eyelids lowered.
You were cooing as I handed you to the doctor.
It was the gentlest sound I’d ever heard.
Parting from it was the hardest thing I’d ever done.
He took you through the double doors.
I returned on shaky legs to the waiting room.

/ / /

15 August 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 25 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: The Waldo & Lobby Show

Published 14 August 2023 by Jason Crane

The Waldo & Lobby Show

We pulled random CDs and records off the shelves,
knowing some of the bands but not all.
“Dorina” by Dada.
“Enid” by Barenaked Ladies.
“Everyday I Write The Book” by Elvis Costello.
Lenny Bruce’s “Captain Whackencracker” sketch,
found on an old LP in the back room,
and played during National Smoke Out Day
because it was pro-smoking and we were edgy teens
with control over the airwaves.
There was a payphone down in the courtyard.
The number was written on the studio wall,
so we’d call it during our show and ask random questions
to whichever passing student picked it up.
Sometimes we’d give out prizes. Some of them were even real.
We made an ad for our show that was nothing but explosions
with the name of the show at the end.
I said “airwaves” earlier but actually the station was cable-only.
You could listen to it in your dorm if you hooked up your receiver
to the college’s cable system, but our motto was:
“You can’t get us in your car.”
The station was called The Bear.
We were Waldo & Lobby.
And from the summer of 1992 until the spring of 1993,
we were invincible.

/ / /

14 August 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 24 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: Escape Velocity

Published 13 August 2023 by Jason Crane

Escape Velocity

I was really into astronomy
in the way I’m into most things:
intensely for a while and then not.
You bought me a series of astronomy classes
that took place at the local science center.
I went, but I didn’t have a telescope,
or even binoculars. Honestly
I’m not sure I even went to all of them.
After the first class it became clear that
I could look, but I couldn’t go.
Somehow that made it worse.

/ / /

13 August 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 23 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: Coltrane

Published 12 August 2023 by Jason Crane

Coltrane

For my birthday one year
you bought me a mounted poster
of John Coltrane.
It hung in our house.
Then it hung in my apartment.
Then when my new partner and I
moved to Tucson
(coincidentally where you and I met),
it hung in the spare bedroom.
I looked at it often when I started sleeping
in that bedroom.
When I left I gave it to friends.
As far as I know, they still have it.

/ / /

12 August 2023
on a train in central VA

This is poem 22 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: Monstrous Lizards

Published 12 August 2023 by Jason Crane

Monstrous Lizards

It is 1979, and there are two Jasons.
Both want to be paleontologists,
so they become friends.
Oh, how they love dinosaurs.
Long names, cool illustrations.
You could stand up in front of the class
and talk about a T-Rex,
even when you were a kid
who the other kids
usually didn’t listen to.
Here’s a photo of them
in the local paper,
standing against the blackboard,
pointing to a long tail and a big set of teeth.
They both have giant glasses
and unfortunate hair.
They don’t know it, but in 14 years,
everybody will love dinosaurs,
at least for a while.

/ / /

11 August 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 21 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: Eventualities

Published 10 August 2023 by Jason Crane


Eventualities

We talked about what would happen
when one of them dies.

“All The Things You Are” is playing.

I have closed the curtains.

Anyway when one of them dies.

Is what we talked about.

By the way that song is over.

The neighbor is mowing again.

The thing is, see, when one of them dies.

I don’t know the name of this next song.

Perhaps I should have another iced tea.

There will come a day when it’s over.

We talked about this.

/ / /

10 August 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 20 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: Fair Warning

Published 10 August 2023 by Jason Crane

Fair Warning

Eyelashes. The stoic. Fuzz. Fedora. Specs. Curls.
The massive round house belonged to a friend’s girlfriend’s parents.
I’d never met them. I barely knew her, for that matter.
The band made the weird curved windows shake
with “Abacab” and “Money” and “Subdivisions.”
Impossibly cool in this suburb of a suburb.
People were making out in the billiard room,
making out in the hot tub out back,
making out on any reasonably flat surface.
The heck with that.
Sex is fleeting, prog rock is forever.

/ / /

9 August 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 19 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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