They don't haunt my dreams,
I see them every day.
Driving by, nice and shiny.
Most especially, I am looking,
To see just one, dark blue SUV.
Mitsubishi Endeavor, to be
Precise. One specifically, the one
I never see. Nope not me.
I see all the rest, from dawn til'
Dusk. I never knew before,
There were so many blue SUV's.
Toyota, Ford, and Chevy too.
All of them, it seems to me, are
Also blue. Oh, I know that
There are other colors, but since
You left, they slip right by
Me, and disappear in the blink
Of an eye. And again I see
One, just like that, cruising by.
A blue SUV, I know for sure,
That it's not the one, and yet I can't
Help it, when my heart, just
For a second, is quietly stunned.
There is even one around, right
Make but not model, as I was told
So long ago, before it all unraveled.
Even if twas', it's who is not
Driving it that is the matter.
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I think that you work too hard to make the lines uniform in this piece. A little variation would be nice.
ReplyDeleteInteresting coincidence though: I just posted a poem by Hank Morgan called "Mr. and Mrs. Macbeth" on my blog, Super Clod Clod Online Litzine. That poem is about driving too. http://superclodclod.wordpress.com
Of course I have a few things posted as well.
hey thanks joecloyd! the line structure is intentional, but i did break up the sections...reads much better and makes more sense!
ReplyDeleteThanks Larry for posting this link. I read 'Blue SUV's' and felt a number of things--mostly heartache. I like how the poem builds and just when reader wonders where it's going or even thinks they have it figured out, an ominous 'you left' appears and it seems as if the whole poem transforms into another entity. And my mind darts to questions: Was this girlfriend/lover (i assume) the one who owned the dark blue Mitsubishi Endeavor. But i also feel as if this is a 'one-of-a-kind thing' where the metaphor emerges between the SUV and the girlfriend...and yourself. The love didn't work out or it would be you driving that quintessential family vehicle, the SUV. Those are just my impressions that i get in having fun reading your poem--i hope i'm not tying the poem up and whipping it with rubber hoses torturing a confession out of it. lol. Nice work!
ReplyDeleteNicely done, Larry.
ReplyDeleteThe woman in the poem is obviously loved...
Glenn wrote a poem about my car once. It is my favorite of the poems he has written about us. He wrote it while away and lonesome on a job. I would often drive to see him when his jobs weren't too far away. Because of this he always seemed to notice any little red car that came up the road. Here are the last lines of his poem:
Little red car,
you have no right to be,
except you bring
my love to me.
I hope a certain someone reads your poem and knows how loved she is...
I feel the same way about white Toyota Highlanders.
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