Today's prompt is a walk drive down memory parkway of sorts. It may seem a bit bleak, but it's just where the poem's voice took me. Today's selection for "Poems Leonard Shares" is this poem.
when we were somewhere between older and younger. discretionary income
for gas. life expands with the universe, celestial colonization of not-matter.
three of us. aimless. it's valentine's day and we're all in some various state of
heartbreak or what passes for heartbreak when you're to the left of the center of
the timeline for life and death. humming and grunting along to the song. laughing
away some version of a pain that i've since outgrown. "slow motion, see me..."
empty road, still not late. we're not really anywhere. on another scatter plot of
coming, going, arrival. look at the mess we've made of the data. "slow motion"
and the car follows the single lane, county highway, the cold february stillness.
we're drawing maps in our brain. making connection.
"see me". singing the song in a voice that hides something. boredom?
angst? disappointment? smirking and laughing like the kids who've sat
so still, behaved so well, letting out that relieved laughter. we're (the imaginary kids
in this scenario/the three of us in this car (in this poem, [from this memory]) aren't
even sure it's funny. it just feels good to go along with the sounds.
"slow"
we've lived another life in the time since. that laughter and that weight. that sense
of driving nowhere and everywhere. we've been down that road and back and lost the
map that held it in place. earned our stripes, as it were.
"see me...let go."
i've lost that pain, inherited newer aches. i don't celebrate valentine's day anymore. i don't like driving as much.
i'm closer to death than i've ever been before when
you read this, you will be
too.
we'll all laugh.
we've been so well behaved.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for commenting. Your comment will be reviewed prior to posting.