My Mother Drove a Rambler by David Michael Jackson
I remember radios with tubesand Cokes for a nickel
and the smell
the smell of the times
The smell of oil in the gas station
The dusty smell of the old store
and all of those places
and we wish we had a picture,
but we were in too much of a hurry.
Do we all die saying
oh but I was gonna…
as well as
If I had just…
yes we remember radios with tubes
and we knew people who remembered
more
We all remember
like we are cameras.
I used to rub my mother’s feet
and I didn’t want to
but now
I wish I could
and she drove a Rambler and
raised a son who rambles around on this page
and reaches no conclusions
like every one else
except that
it was all worth it
It was all worth it,
seeing the sun light everything up
seeing only certain wavelengths
hearing only certain wavelengths
A run down outsider poet on a worn out piece of paper headed for the trash
says
one more time
wait!
Have you seen the dew on the petal?
because
beauty and love
are all we know
and all
we need to know
The last poem was a little to and fro for H. Jerome Alter Poem by Pen Chant. The next poem is My Sweet Prison
