Driver Notes



I think I have said this before … poems are everywhere. I went home to Ohio this weekend for a wedding and much-needed family time I hadn’t realized I needed. And through the odd moments I had with my psychology and emotions this weekend I still found poems. Before I left for Ohio, it was the 4th of July. I sat in my dark living room and wrote poems and did erasures of my old poems from undergrad by only the light of 6 tealights. I guess this is my version of Pablo Neruda writing poems naked. Obviously both nudity and darkness help art along in their inherent vulnerability. I knew I didn’t want anything to do with the fireworks downtown (though I was unfortunately able to hear them well) since I have a fairly recent aversion to fireworks … one of those emotional hiccups that won’t go away even after holding your breath and believing you’re over “it” whatever “it” is …

I am not certain if my family knowing I am communicating with my dead aunt Shirley is a step in the right direction or in the wrong one. I guess only time will tell. And this, like poems, are always more powerful in the dark. But darkness and nakedness aside … poems are even in the stall of a rest area bathroom off the Ohio Turnpike. A small piece of paper labelled “Driver Notes” was in the stall waiting for someone to save. The biblical passages written all over it and the “Hi! Jesus loves you!” didn’t really change my perceptions but the experience did … it did save me in a certain respect … that poem on the horizon of my viscera.

The above photo is one an uncle gave me this weekend. He said he came across it and thought I would want it. It is interesting how much you forget until you remember … like my aunt’s puppy, Mindy and that coat.

And I think I was happier as a blonde (now a natural brunette) … and maybe also with my asymmetrical bangs cut by the paint-stained and loving hands of my aunt Shirley.


Published in: on July 11, 2007 at 6:56 pm  Leave a Comment  

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