Maurice Guidry

He took a plane to Dallas once, an hour's flight,
At seventeen, to watch his mother's brother die.
He saw his city's lights grow smaller through
The airplane's little window. When they turned,
The lights were gone, and all he'd ever known
Had disappeared. How that had bothered him.
He didn't see too much of Dallas, just that sterile
Hospital, a motel room and restaurants which
Looked like those from back at home. They left
Before the funeral, and he's remained in town
Since then, except for weekend drives down
To the coast or out to New Orleans. Last week,
There was a festival, and bands and tourists
Floated in, and four days later flew away. He
Blinked his eyes and shook his head. How can
Those people live that way? Like everybody else
He knows, he'll stay here all his life.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 146 times
Written on 2019-04-30 at 00:36

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