Bring me down
6:24 p.m. June 24, 2020
I’m driving on interstate 80, headed to a Henderson to pick up my son. We are down
to one car after he hit a deer a week ago.
I’m counting memories like the mile markers on the shoulder, when the song “Landslide”
(Smashing Pumpkins’ version) comes on the radio. And I am panicking to keep the tears
at bay, but when the chorus starts, “Well, I've been afraid of changing / 'Cause I've built
my life around you...” I feel all the yesterdays run down my cheek. Inside I am standing
there, arms filled with snap shots of zoo trips, basketball tournaments, visits to a dinosaur
museum now closed. I can’t hold them all. They fall from my hands, fluttering like dead
leaves in an autumn storm. I scramble to catch them. Left arm hugging memories tight,
while my right sweeps through the air grasping at the moment my wife and I had a flat
tire early in the morning. My heart heaves, more moments shift in my arms, then ambushes
me. The photos of my life cascade in front of me. Joy and frustration. Happiness and
exhaustion. Victory and sorrow. All swirl in a colorful avalanche that buries my soul. I almost
pull over in fear of being blinded by the rumble of living.
to one car after he hit a deer a week ago.
I’m counting memories like the mile markers on the shoulder, when the song “Landslide”
(Smashing Pumpkins’ version) comes on the radio. And I am panicking to keep the tears
at bay, but when the chorus starts, “Well, I've been afraid of changing / 'Cause I've built
my life around you...” I feel all the yesterdays run down my cheek. Inside I am standing
there, arms filled with snap shots of zoo trips, basketball tournaments, visits to a dinosaur
museum now closed. I can’t hold them all. They fall from my hands, fluttering like dead
leaves in an autumn storm. I scramble to catch them. Left arm hugging memories tight,
while my right sweeps through the air grasping at the moment my wife and I had a flat
tire early in the morning. My heart heaves, more moments shift in my arms, then ambushes
me. The photos of my life cascade in front of me. Joy and frustration. Happiness and
exhaustion. Victory and sorrow. All swirl in a colorful avalanche that buries my soul. I almost
pull over in fear of being blinded by the rumble of living.
“Well, the landslide will bring you down / Oh, the landslide will bring it down”
6:27 p.m. June 24, 2020
I’m driving on interstate 80...
Poetic Form #20: Prose
A prose poem is written as prose, without traditional line breaks. The poem still makes use of
poetic devices such as repetition, rhyme, metaphor, and other literary elements.
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