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Posts Tagged ‘nostalgia’

 

 

And coming closer, I catch a familiar scent

and lean my head in the open window,

breathe in, and I am sixteen again, and Peter

is sitting beside me and The Russians Love

their Children, Too is playing on the tape deck

and we’re singing along, the windows are down

and the night is warm and we’re finding a place

in the dark where we can park and practice ways

to fit our tall thin bodies into the tiny back seat.

And it’s summer. And I love him. And he loves me.

I’m downshifting and he has his hands up my shirt

and we’re laughing and we have no idea yet

just how much it will hurt when we learn

that love is not enough when it comes

to scripture and doctrine and who marries whom.

No, tonight, it’s just me and Peter and the generous

dark and Sting and the indifferent moon.

 

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One Time Warp

 

 

 

leaning into a wind

from twenty years ago—

still tugging tears from my eyes

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reading again
that yellowing letter
you never sent me

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the thousandth peach
tasting it
as if it were the first

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Two

eating the peach
I bite into six years ago
another peach

*

shattered
and every shard of me
gasps love, love

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Using the Last Bit of Red Onion Left by Rachel

Lost for weeks in the corner of the crisper drawer,
it appears just in time to save the carrot soup.

One large hunk of red onion, partially used, still good.
I get nostalgic, remembering how Rachel, gone for three weeks,

served it with eggs, and though I didn’t eat them
I remember how delicious the kitchen smelled then.

It is her hand that chose it, her hand that sliced the rings.
I laugh at my own nostalgia. But I miss her, the all of her,

the giggling on the couch with her, the singing in the car,
cayenne and hot chocolate late night, poems, wine.

And slicing the onion, thinking about how Rachel she is,
it is right somehow that I should start to cry.

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spinning on the tilt-a-whirl
scent of tomato leaves
still on my hands

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