Thursday, December 22, 2011

I Can Remember


I can remember a time when

innocence was a casual rebellion

against authority and switch blades,

lemon cokes, and flat tops with fenders

were as cool as madras shirts,

paper routes and Sunday school;



I can remember my first

experience at love and how

my anticipation alone would

have been enough to want more;



I can remember a quiet time

when a walk in the woods

brought on visions of surviving

among the wilds of nature, of

tree houses, and swinging vines,

and morning escapades replenished

with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches

or roasted hotdogs on an open fire;



I can remember a secret place

for cigarettes and dirty books

where items wrapped in plastic

were protected against the moisture,

and I, like Sherlock Holmes, would

go there only after my trail had not been followed;



I can remember snow above my head

and human chains to stop the plows

and May 1 tennis shoes on

fresh cut grass to announce the

close of school and morning chores;



I can remember my first day at gym

athletic supporters and medicine balls in the rain,

changing classes, and home room teachers,

drags in the bathroom, jocks, and upper classmen

and false alarms after the senior prom;



I can remember the walk down the aisle

the costumes of sailors and foreign ports,

hospital waiting rooms and cigars for everyone,

piggy back rides and bedtime stories,

outgrown clothes, pets, and talks on

the phone in closets out-of-sight;



I can remember that looking in

the mirror and wanting to grow up

brought wishes that my hair were white

and I was experienced and knew

all the answers to my questions;



I can remember how smart it was to question

and how foolish with my answers, now I look;



I can remember the good times

have faint recollections of the bad,

but most of all, I’ll remember you

and the relaxed feeling inside;

the harmony and peacefulness and the seldom times

when we could be alone and dream of

those fantasies that somehow always brought

us back to our own memories.

June 4, 1984

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