That petulant frat boy! Nov. 30, 2012
Two months after the last time we’ve had any contact, she
apparently is still looking over her shoulder for an ogre that isn’t me.
Although the poem feels as if it is aimed at me or at some
other poor fool that has mistakenly flown into her web and has graduated from creepy-crawly
to a full-blown stalker.
As in some of her other poems, there seems to be three
characters involved, one who is warning another about a third – that illusive
stalker-like character who prowls around, but whom the speaker just can’t nail
down, a sullen, moody, even cantankerous little boy, who get annoyed for no
good reason.
But it is easy to overlook the real meaning of this poem by
assuming the obvious and mistaking her metaphor as the essence of the poem,
when she means something completely different.
On the surface, the poem seems to depict a stalker, and the
speaker cautioning herself against him.
In this aspect, the speaker sounds utterly reasonable, but
needs to remind herself that this ill-tempered boy is still somewhere out
there, but she is unable to pin down. She can’t catch him at his tricks, and
tells herself she needs to look quick, needs to nail him down, someone she won’t
be rid of until she does – suggesting that if she does catch him, she needs to
buy him a stiff drink.
As with many of her poems, this poem’s tone is set by the use
of short, rapid-fire lines, denoting a certain paranoia. The main character
sees herself as street smart, someone strutting along, looking around, savvy
enough to be aware of who might be pursuing her.
The use of the term “petulant frat boy” sets up a kind of extended
metaphor, painting her pursuer as a mischievous urchin, a pest that she doesn’t
take too seriously, but is annoyed by.
Images include quick eye movement as if to catch a glimpse in
the corner of her eye, and a sense that she is out of breath, perhaps from
fleeing or surprise at his constant tapping on her shoulder.
But the real metaphor includes the title which implies he’s
a fool and she needs to be patient. He is clever, illusive, but a giggling.
fool none the less.
But there is a deeper meaning in all this, which has nothing
to do with stalkers or stalking, but with the illusive dreams she just can’t
catch up with, fitting somewhat the pattern of her other recent poems. No
matter how she tries to catch her lucky star, it always eludes her, and she
needs to be patient if she is to fulfill her ambitions.
What she wanted was there a minute ago, she swears.
She tells herself to catch her breath before he taps her on
her shoulder again, opportunity knocking, but then fleeing from her, out of
reach, almost mocking her efforts.
In some ways, it doesn’t seem real and certainly out of
reach, and she seems to feel as if fate is mocking her, teasing her with near
misses, tapping her on the shoulder she didn’t look over, a leprechaun promising
a pot of gold if she can catch him, only she never can.
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