Two Poems

by Eddie Krzeminski

Ode to My Alva ’77

Hundreds if not thousands of miles
on the old skid deck, brush logo’d griptape,
colored like a west coast sunrise.
Bennett trucks, Abec 60m RetroGliders,
Khiro risers, Rockin Ron’s between the axle nuts,
fastest money can buy, Big Jim at the old
Sanctuary skate shop swore.

I learned to front carve, to lay my ass
flat & skid, frontside or backside,
glide my hand across the split asphalt
for control, gashing through ma’s
gardening gloves, afterwards
sitting on my board in the muggy
Florida night sucking blood from my palms.

Fucker still rides, still rolls smooth,
still kicks when I do the kicking.
I take her for a spin around the block
past old spots, back when the neighborhood
was the farthest the earth’s fingers could reach,
the world so small I could have ridden it
to its end on four urethane wheels.


Eddie Krzeminski is an MFA candidate at Florida International University where he is the poetry editor for Gulf Stream magazine. His work has recently appeared in Gravel, Origins, and Small Orange. In his spare time he reads, writes, and plays bass.