Behind the Hazel

We traveled three hours along the coast,
passing gray dolphins dancing in white surf,
and migrant workers, stooped low to the ground,
picking red berries in the late afternoon sun.
Fearful of looking into your eyes,
miles were filled with mine glued to the road
and conversation peppered with comments on weather
and movies and baseball and
the passage of time and the book I still haven’t written
and wars and fear and
all that is wrong in the world,
wrong in our lives, right in our dreams and
“Where do you see yourself 20 years from now?”
Superficiality perfected with generic responses.

 
I can’t imagine next month.
Let’s get past the too much, the not now,
the bad timing, but what ifs and if onlys
and work through duty, honor, obligation,
shoulds and shouldn’ts,
guilts and pains and then,
then--
if it’s not too late, let’s see where this road leads,
perhaps somewhere beyond Los Angeles International Airport,
where we said goodbye,
where you blushed after I kissed your cheek,
where I finally had the courage to look into your eyes,
and glimpse behind the hazel,
a world that might have been mine.

Reviews

[Heather]

I have had those drives and those glimpses...fantastic expression of it...