it never fails.
i am drawn here.
i don't even realize it
until my car is passing my parent's house,
til I have passed the hall
where they used to hold Halloween parties,
where we used to meet "half-way" we said...
where i drive up the road
that we used to walk
relentlessly and tirelessly
singing billy idol
and bon jovi
at the top of our lungs,
neighbor's be damned....
the road where we used to practice curse words
and no one could hear...
where we shared headphones
and sang madonna...
til my car is passing her house
and the fields where we played both
baseball (by our own made up rules, of course
and likely with a stick for a bat
and pair of rolled up socks
for a ball) and barbies
that sported bathing suits made from
the field where we hid from the siblings....
the back step where we drank koolaid
(not kool aid with turpentine, that came later)
and the front step where we laid out
in matching white bathing suits...well,
not really matching...hers was christopher's beach club
and mine was the pink panther
with the smell of baby oil and fresh cut grass lingering.
past the spot where
i almost always have to close my eyes
but i can't now, cause i'm driving, so i look
at the fields, at the sky, at the radio,
anywhere but the road, anywhere but the driveway...
past the spot where the
past the part of the road where
at a certain time of day,
the shadows of the trees are cast
long across the road.
this was always my favorite stretch of this road
when we used to bike up this far...
and oddly enough,
this is very close to where you are now.
the shadows of the trees
cast long across you in the evenings.
i find myself on the dirt road
leading to our beach...
the road so familiar,
i could drive it with my eyes closed.
when i drive down this road,
i hear all of us crammed in the backseat...
all the fighting and the laughing and the teasing and the music...
bare legs sticking against hot seats,
no car seats, no seat belts,
8 of us crammed in a backseat built for 4.
warm koolaid with sand in it.
walking on the rocks as far as we could go...
looking for sandglass,
looking for boys...(there were never any)
swinging on the swings even when we were far too old
for that to be cool...
long baggy t-shirts over our bathing suits,
skin brown, hair messy and tangled.
every rock that i step on,
we probably stepped on this rock.
i look for signs from you
and i worry
that you won't ever send me one
i worry more
that you might sending them to me
and i might be
walking right by them
which would be so much worse...
so instead i focus on looking for
that i can bring to you...
a bouquet of wilted blossoms,
a stolen sprig of wild roses
not yet fully in bloom,
a misshapen heart shaped rock...
and when i slip and almost fall on the wet seaweed,
i laugh out loud...
cause i know that would have made you laugh.
i find myself drawn here
looking for us
in my one side memories.