Joe Brainard poem – By @mcgloiiiiiin

Joe Brainard poem

This Scab was inspired by the Joe Brainard poem ‘I Remember’ from Caroline’s writing class.

I remember David Seaman getting lobbed.

I remember running from wasps with Mr Whippy in hand.

I remember hating steamed spinach.

I remember pretending to be asleep in the back of the car and being carried into the house.

I remember hearing a gunshot when in bed and not knowing if it was a dream or real.

I remember being called a poof by a bunch of older boys and not knowing what it meant.

I remember exploring the local woods and finding a dug-out grave.

I remember my Grandad’s story about seeing his friend carried out to sea by a strong current and never seen again.

I remember the smell of Sunday roasts and ITV on in the background.

I remember the burning sensation of a football hitting your thigh on a winter’s day.

I remember when a dog got into the playground and everyone went apeshit.

I remember finding a dead crow in the road and burying it in my garden.

I remember Jack kicking a brick and breaking his foot.

I remember summers that seemed to last forever.

I remember my first rare hamburger.

I remember the love of my Grandma.

I remember stealing neighbourhood cats and bringing them home.

I remember being blamed by my teacher for something I never did.

I remember terrible wind.

I remember going into central London for the first time and seeing a man in a pink suit with a white rabbit on the tube.

I remember finding a pack of cigs in Sir Joseph Hood Park and smoking them with Billy, Daniel, James, Alex and Daniel.

I remember my mother crying and how it made me feel uncomfortable, grown-ups didn’t cry.

I remember Haagen Dazs ice cream with the hot Belgian chocolate sauce on top that would go hard when it cooled.

I remember wondering why I was given life and not being asked if I wanted it.

I remember stag beetles.

I remember secretly staying up late on a Friday and watching Graham Norton on Channel 4 on the guest bedroom TV and not understanding the humour but laughing anyway.

I remember getting threatened in the park at night by some older Rutlish boys and Henry had to kiss their feet in order for them to leave us alone.

I remember the satisfaction after pulling out a baby tooth.

I remember picking up snails from the pavement when it rained and placing them in people’s gardens.

I remember conkers and putting them in vinegar to harden them up.

I remember the pointless obsession with Pokémon cards and how it brought out the worst in people, including myself.

I remember being told children are to be seen and not heard.

I remember any lone man in the park was labelled a paedophile.

I remember car journeys around the country with my father and Pat Metheny playing in the background.

I remember the calmness of church in between sermons.

I remember rope swings over brooks in back alleys.

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