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Friday, April 12, 2013

Today's Poem or Short Story Prompt: The Word "the wrong location" (4/12)


This blog is devoted to a select group of poets. We're starting with poets from the Ann Arbor area, but, hey, if you're from Detroit, Grand Rapids, Saginaw or the Upper Peninsula, then that is okay, too.

Our goal is to provide you with a prompt every day from which you are to garner inspiration and submit a poem. How to submit will be very easy.  Just put your poem or short story  in the comments section and hit post. You may not immediately see your post, but it is there under the "Comments" section. You may need to click on "Comments" to see your poem.  It is there on another page.
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Today's poem or short story prompt is the word "the wrong location"

2 comments:

  1. The Wrong Location

    You could have walked a little quicker
    I would have never noticed you
    You stopped though
    Looked into my eyes
    Smiled
    Like in the movies
    I felt like I was in that movie
    Where you know that this is the person
    You are meant to be with
    Or marry
    Or here's your soulmate
    Like in the movies
    You then believe in the concept of destiny
    Of "it's meant to be"
    The universe set up
    Past lovers
    Bad jobs
    Fenders benders
    All to bring you to this bright happy place

    When it ends
    You will read articles about brain chemicals
    Dopamine-Norepinephrine
    How these feel good chemicals flood the brain
    Energy Color Pleasent Dreams
    Quell your anxieties
    You stop believing in your private fairy tale
    As you divide up furniture
    Pack your coffee cups
    Take your clothing from your side of the closet

    You might feel this magic again some day
    You are a hopeful girl
    For now though
    Your star-crossed meeting
    Just boiled down
    The right time but
    The wrong location
    Or something like that

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  2. A PALE GREEN HOUSE


    The director drove to the site, parked his car and grew very quiet.

    The two co-producers (women who had flown to Detroit to meet with him and talk about budget and timeline) looked out their windows and chattered with each other and nodded. The row of houses had the right look ("a typical Midwestern city, upscale without being pretentious, on the line between 'lower-class' and 'lower-middle-class'") and feel ("a calm, quiet place where nothing of much interest could be expected to happen") to make the film convincing. The lawns were pretty (all trimmed to exactly the same height), the houses unassuming (all painted the same dull, muted tones) and the streets clean (not a stray twig or piece of paper to be found).

    The location scout sat directly behind the driver, picking at a fingernail. It was his third film with Paul (not counting the two shorts they did together in film class, fourteen years ago) and he still didn't have any idea when the director might go off on him. His left leg (the one with the tiny scar mid-thigh from a piece of glass somewhere in Arizona) bounced up and down like it had a mind of its own. He liked working with Paul; the money was good (though another agency tried poaching him just last month, the third in as many years) and he got to travel.

    "Are we getting out?" someone said.

    The director shook his head and started the car. As they drove, he told them that they couldn't film there. It "wasn't right". The location was "too quiet" or "didn't have the right feel" or some other crap like that. He lost track of the lies. They didn't matter. All he knew was that the third house on the right reminded him of her.

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