top of page

"But Still" (with apologies to Stephan Jenkins)

I never really listened to Third Eye Blind in high school or college.

They were that band that played in the background at dorm parties and school dances or

on the radio when you were parked at Devereux Beach at night

making out in your girlfriend’s car and the windows

got fogged up.


sitting in my car,

windows down

the last shreds of summer breeze through.

Familiar yet foreign.

“Something’s gone, you withdraw”

Halfway between the grocery store and home.

“And I’m not strong like before”

Halfway between an ambitious kid

and a middle-aged dad.

“I've lost myself there's nothing left, it's all gone.”

Still a bit of each, but fading.


Lee Lubarsky was born and raised in Massachusetts. He received his B.A. with a minor in poetry from The George Washington University. Lee works as a public relations manager in New York where he lives with his wife, two children and their 18-pound cat. This is his first new work in nearly a decade.

Recent Posts

See All

Two poems by Mckendy Fils-Aimé

sipèstisyon If people say your child is beautiful, your child will become ugly. ok, i confess. once, i said fuck you to danny perkins on the last day of kindergarten after a miserable year of being pu

"Dead Things" by Beth Boylan

I feel compelled to pick up the baby bird that has died just outside my doorstep this morning. Place her in my hand and rub her toothpick ribs with my thumb. Gently kiss the milky-blue bulbs of her ey

Two poems by Daniel Edward Moore

Hey, Future is that you / in the moment / a Buddhist might love / enough to hyperventilate / or the day’s dizzy spin /of 24 hours / kicking joy / to the curbs / of chaos / blessed by Hallmark’s / squa

bottom of page