Miranda Kenneally

Mexican Food Cures Writer's Block

Throwing myself into a pit of humiliation

So my crazy friend and Survivor-watcher Emily (@emilytastic on twitter) is constantly talking about how she loved Hanson more than anything in high school. Now she’s uploading scans of her high school journal on her blog. I especially enjoy her stories about how the evil biology teacher ridiculed her in front of the whole class for liking Hanson. WTF?

(Off subject, but my favorite high school memory of Hanson happened when I was listening to “Mmmbop” and my dad said, “Damn, those girls sure can sing.”)

Therefore, in total solidarity with Emily, I shall post a poem I wrote in high school. This is actually the least offensive and least embarrassing poem I could find. I love that I used the word “emanate” in HS. What a dork I was (am).

Even though this poem is complete crap, I’m happy I found it, cause it just reinforces how much I’ve always enjoyed writing. And it’s great to see how much I’ve grown. But in some ways, I’m very much the same, as this resembles stuff I write now…

It was time again,

for the annual county fair.

It would be leaving tomorrow,

packed away, back into its trucks,

to keep us in suspense,

for another, whole year.

The unique smell of that night

is forever burned into me.

Cotton candy and funnel cakes,

mixed with the exhaust of cigarette smoke.

Stars littered the sky,

as I was thrown around on cheap rides.

We left the fair, the two of us-

in search of cheap wine coolers,

and solitude as well.

The crisp, night air whipped through my hair,

and raced across my cold skin.

I sat on the hood of his Mustang,

where heat was still emanating from the engine.

I was wrapped in his huge, flannel shirt,

staring at the moon’s reflection on the lake’s clear surface.

He bent over to kiss my lips,

and held me tight.

Soon after, it was over.

He moved on to her.

To kiss her lips.

To hold her head to his chest.

To wrap her in his shirt,

leaving me only with the everlasting memory,

Of the last night of the fair.

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Comments (4)

4 Responses to “Throwing myself into a pit of humiliation”

  1. Miranda, you are awesome. This poem is so cute! If we’d known eachother in high school, I bet we would have started a ‘zine together! How badass would that have been?! It would have been like half Hanson fanaticism and half dramatic poetry. I DIG IT.

  2. Also I got into Hanson after my best friend and I got my dad (who is a really goofy guy and likes to sing along to ANYTHING on the radio) the MMMBop single CD as a joke…and my sister (6 years younger, so she was like…8?) got into them…slowly I got addicted.

    MMMBop is now the ring tone for my dad on my cell. <3

  3. Miranda Kenneally says:

    It’s never too late to start a magazine! We should do it. It could definitely be part Hanson, part Foo Fighters, part angsty poetry.

    I also have aspirations to start my own lotion store. I could advertise for the lotion in our magazine!

  4. Sarah says:

    Aw, I love this poem! It made me nostalgic for county fairs, autumn, and high school angst.

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