You peer into the darkness
listening to this river;
"It's really high tonight,
way over the banks."
But you keep staring at it
until the sun comes up,
like it's gonna go away
talking about the tree
that used to be over there
growing above the water,
how you climbed it.
About walking through the river,
about being there with
Michael and Holly
and how this mountain laurel,
(you point), and that rhododendron
and that kudzu weren't there before.
You tell me how you signed a petition
to keep them from paving the road
next to this river.
And how you rode bikes 6 miles
down this road with your neighbor.
How you want to stay here
get so drunk here you
sleep on a hollow log.
6 comments:
holly,
sounds like a guy thing.
hey, if the log is hollow
why not sleep in it
instead of on it?
I really like the way this ends -- leaving the reader to make their own conclusions about the poem.
and that kind of memory has no beginning and no ending does it?
Definitely Needmore Road. The title says it all.
I love the voice in this poem. For me, it echoes the loneliness of memory. Of course, I love the theme. Damned roads. But it's awesome how the theme goes much deeper than that. I agree with Nathan about the "open" ending. It's wonderful and leads me to so many places. Excellent details. I love your work.
Curious to know who this poem is about :-) Needmore Rd have I been there before?
Yeah Misty, you know this place well, don't you? :) I camped there for the first time this summer with Greg.
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