Retracing our footsteps

A 13 hour drive
North
Through snow
The windshield wipers worked
This time
Your son
Drove
As the scenery
Flew by
I
Watched our lives
Pass before my eyes
I listened to your brother
Connect with his nephew
And heard you
We dined with your daughter
Your ex Brother
And sister-in-law
And toasted
You
Driving south
Waves of emotion
Crashed over me
As we drove
Past our house
Your work
All the places
We'd driven by
So
Many
Times
So this last time
You were with us again
And we made the round trip
For you

Oakwood Avenue West Hartford 1965

Enter a square kitchen
At the southwest corner
Due west
An enamel stove
At WNW
A doorway
A bathroom
Sink mirror clawfoot tub toilette bare lightbulb cracked buckled linoleum
North west
A low sink chipped porcelain
Above it
A glass front cupboard
Peeling pea soup green paint
Due North
Maybe a sash window
Northeast a glass front cupboard
Above
Cupboard below
Doors hang askew
Southeast a doorway
Leading left a basement stairway
Right a porch with open sash window
A clothesline on a pulley
Due south
A short stocky refrigerator
In the center of the room
A gray speckled formica and chrome
Table
Some ripped red naugahyde
Chairs
The table surface obscured
By dirty dishes piled high
Dried moldy milk glasses
Open the fridge
A glass bottle of
Milk
Hamburger meat
With maggots

In my mind's eye

I am standing
At the sink
In the darkened kitchen
The dishes are done
The full moon rises
Over the ridge
Washing the fields
In cold light
The trees
Make black shadows
You're sitting in the other room
With our son
Watching American actors
Chattering in German
Which only I didn't understand
Entschuldigung
Es tut mir sehr leid

Leave the dishes till morning

Curl up and read
The temperature's falling
How much sleep do you need
The covers are calling
Chocolate is warm
The wine glass is empty
This is called home

Autumn

Drenched earth
Evaporating in the autumnal morning sun
Releasing the pervasive pungent scent
Of decomposing pine needles

Dampness

suspended
at the tips of the pine needles
acrid tears

Shortcomings

Judging each other
by our own
mismeasurements