Wausau 1979

Try to imagine

where it was,

the moment

inside a memory,

what did the breeze feel like,

certainly there was one,

the glen inside a cove

surrounded in maples and pine,

and short shrifts of sumac

pine needles all across the forest wood

where we as children climbed

only the same tree,

familiar branches,

I sat there last year

he said to her,

as she wondered if or when he might

try to

kiss her

under the oak,

the childhood symbol of growing up,

at least,

understanding that

decades later,

the memory of which

might be less profound

than the immediacy of a heart racing

illusion

of

love,

in the eyes of two thirteen year old children,

holding hands on a public street,

smiles and backpacks and

acne and eyes that searched only for

each other

because

that is what we had been told

that is what we had been told,

is the meaning of love,

in a quiet midwestern town,

where concrete

could easily confuse

the very natural ground

we laid upon years later

with a lover

and smitten eyes.


© Thom Amundsen 2019

If, Wonder Might Recall

We circle our lives

in a constant twirl

deciding upon a sacred

trust of following trails

cascading in waters

a fresh, puritanical veil

we are always looking,

wondering, in a wander

if this is what is meant

to be our only real.

 

Remember when as a child

the sweet irony of morning

the sun cast across the sky

our lives simply meant this

moment only, nothing beyond,

we could dance forever

in a myriad of circumstance

always feeling welcome

in the world we did belong.

 

Sometimes today,

when glancing in our

rearview mirror on this

our life we lead,

we wonder about the tools

we carried forward,

those we left behind,

the evils, the strain,

the confusion,

if only we could keep

ourselves moving forward.

 

There seems a purpose

to all of this, our memory.

Finding Voice

I walked outside and screamed at the bottom of my driveway,

only because I knew no one would notice,

well, they did, and their doors shut,

I stood in my neighborhood and felt completely alone.

 

The manicured lawns,

similarly styled rose gardens,

the roof repair and invisible fences,

street signs that suggested we all slow down.

 

I glanced around and decided to scream outloud again,

more doors shut,

the street seemed to empty in a silence

more apparent than I’d noticed before my unravel.

 

I stood there for a long time

watched kids on their bicycles take the corner before

having to coast past the man at the end of the driveway,

I realized for the first time I might have been noticed.

 

I walked back up to my garage,

played some music while drilling some wood,

the sweat on my brow, I wiped with my forearm,

I glanced at the street, a squad rode by … I waved.

Eccentric Complement

When life stopped,

that ideal romantic interlude,

our travel together,

we were a match

in the fall of ’78, ’79

I looked in your eyes,

while the traffic went by,

didn’t matter really,

your smile radiant,

you had your elegant demeanor,

I was a young lad,

you were my gift,

I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sunrise,

with every step I followed your word,

as you showered me with beauty and grace,

skipping classes and later,

skipping clothes.

We traveled one day,

it was the wagon Volvo,

deep brown,

I still want one today, because …

we should certainly that day,

have driven away only to be wanted.

We didn’t care who wandered near,

together we were there.

Late afternoon we began our walk,

it was distant ever since you’d told me

you loved me because of my

eccentric

nature of delighting you with smiles.

I looked it up,

at nineteen the word ‘odd’ …

frightened me, and I have regretted that

ever since.

I wish you would read this and know

how much I truly love you.

Vacant Stares

If we could, step inside the mind of each,

we would discover worlds of laughter above,

yearning, pressing, wishing we might teach

each of them the key to learning … love.

For when I step off my ladder,

explore the new ideal rather

than ignore the immediacy

of that ludicrous scrutiny,

I become sadly aware of a world beyond me.

~

If right now in the moment I were to suggest

that every notion in your mind be put to rest

could we all then just suddenly digest

a quiet reality, we’re simply true I’d … jest

For is that laughter

the key to our after,

when once a disaster,

today, we know hereafter

our world in our mind’s eye is easier recognized.

~

A classroom, a delivery of ideas, someone else wrote,

we are to discuss each variable, I ask them to make note

This is our life today in the moment, I monstrous do gloat,

my goal is to hold them accountable, not let them float.

A sea breeze allows the eyes to drift

soft in the morning sunshine I lift

my head, feel the breeze, gentle gift

that departure now sends me adrift.

Is there any value in knowing I might have just missed the point.

~

In the surreal nature masking that cathartic moment of energy,

may we all sometime feel our own novel cue toward synergy.