A Road

Forty years ago, or so, I was,
As I've remained, an all-too
Evidently feckless man, adult,
But living back home because...
I'd quit another college? I had
Lost another job? My girlfriend
Had thrown me out? I know
That it was one of these. I stayed
Up late, woke up, and wandered
Into forests, back to town. On
Saturdays, I'd ride my bike
Down to the shores of Lake
Sammamish. Then, I'd ride
Around the lake, which isn't small.
Then, I'd ride to Redmond, which,
In those days, before Microsoft,
Was just a village, still asleep
On Saturdays at ten or so.
From there, I'd ride toward
The mountains, passing bogs
And farmers' fields, until I
Reached my destination:
An old hand-laid road of brick
Which lay unused out in the
Country, too short to lead
Anywhere. I loved that road.
It was my life, a useless but
Attractive thing. By now,
I'm sure that it is gone,
Replaced, as have the fields
Around it, by suburban sprawl.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 63 times
Written on 2016-11-16 at 14:23

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