I wait while she writes a check
her driveway is black, smooth again
the cracks filled, pits gone
we stand in the grass
her feet bare
my boots splattered with tar
I notice that her shorts
are embarrassingly threadbare
and smeared with paint
her t-shirt is shapeless
clinging to breasts that droop
as wearily as the seams at her neckline
the wind chimes tinkle
while I watch her
the sound doesn’t disappear
but keeps jangling inside my head
she hands over the check.
I pause, then choose to visit
the conversation twists in the breeze
like the clapper of the chimes
hanging just behind her head
the aura of suntan lotion hangs about her
but she is dried and shriveled
a sun-parched garden.
we talk a bit longer
I turn to leave
as I go, I think I hear her say
“I know where the wind lives”
I apologize for not posting this where it belongs - but it seems more part of my home coming thoughts than something that belongs elsewhere.
I've just caught up on your last three posts. I don't know why I thought you weren't posting. This poem is amazing. I absolutely love it.
ReplyDeleteYour photographs are haunting and lovely, as well as your memories. I am so glad that you have chosen to share this homecoming with us. It is a moving experience.
Oh gosh, I have such great memories of a merry-go-round just like that one. I remember the big kids pushing it and then I remember being a big kid pushing the little ones. I can see it so clearly in my mind, just behind the school building. In fact, right outside one of the classrooms, it was quite a distraction when other classes had recess. lol
Congrats on AC. You are a great writer. I especially loved the article on scent. My ex used to tease me about my sense of smell. It about did me in during my pregnancies. lol
Ok..I'm taking up tons of comment space. Talk to ya later. :)
haunting ... tangible ... amazing
ReplyDeleteKrina