Driving By

I'll go past her town as I'm driving northward.
I'll see it: a cluster of houses and trees, gas
Station signs and some baseball field lights,
From a highway which cuts through the corn
To the east.  I will wonder if she's in her home,
What she's doing, but I've no intention of going
To see her.  What we once were we've long since
Ceased to be, and I never felt wholly at home
In that town. it's too small, claustrophobic.  
You're never alone, and everyone in it knows
Why you are there.  They know where you'll
Be going, what you plan to do.  No, I'll stay on
The highway and look past the sign for the town
Of a woman who no longer matters, a place
Which seemed dreadful to me.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 36 times
Written on 2022-07-18 at 00:07

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
I love the way this poem signposts how we should feel about things... relationships... from our past. It is a very adult and educated realisation you describe. I really enjoyed this, Lawrence. Thank you for sharing it.