But the Hot Summer Air Felt Just the Same
We went back to the old road
with the four-way stop and
the old white church, and the memory
of how to proceed unfolded block
by block and not a moment sooner,
but both of us knew that as much
as we had found our way back
past the golf course, past
the sagging homes with their eternal
garage sales and roses in dusky bloom,
past the drive in and the market
where we used to buy roasted chilies in fall,
though we were right where
we set out to be we can never
really go back, not even driving
as carefully, as slowly as we can.
I like this one muchly. The details are so precise, the sensation of everything in the going back without ever being told what it felt LIKE. I have to wonder about one tiny phrase: the line “…we can never really go back…” That line strikes me as a bit overused and especially where it appears, I knew it was coming. I’m just playing below, but I’m trying to figure out how to omit that bit without losing the idea of “driving slowly” — so, maybe you’ll at least get the gist of what I’m trying to get at.
though we were right where
we set out to be, we weren’t,
not even driving as carefully,
as slowly as we can.
though we were so close to
where we set out to be, not even
driving as carefully, as slowly as
we could nudged us any closer.
though we thought we were right
where we ought to be, not even driving
as carefully, as slowly as we can
brought us any closer.
Yes, I see what you mean. I used the first edit and altered the title a little to get the sense of the past … Thanks!
On 7/7/14, 8:31 PM, “comment-reply@wordpress.com” wrote:
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