BetterMost, Wyoming & Brokeback Mountain Forum
Our BetterMost Community => Creative Writer's Corner => Topic started by: Shakesthecoffecan on February 14, 2007, 12:16:56 am
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A million details of a million forgotten lives lived on the streets, the bars, libraries
and automobiles by people who made no babies.
People who worked and saved and collected,
to end as scraps of refuse on an apartment floor.
A photo salvaged nameless from a dumpster to
be reborn as an ornament, a trinket representing the disposability of all life, the newsprint
counter of a table in a Wendy's resturant.
The intersection, corner, curb, whence once was
passed betwixt friends, a crack on someone else.
The memory of a deer in a corn
field, that makes a young boy look each time he passes, far into adulthood, into
age & decline, looking, holding the memory each time his wheels passes this point,
but the deer is long gone,
as is the boarding house where the great uncle cussed a
sailor, replaced with a 24 story hotel, full of dramas new.
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Tru!!! That's amazing.
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I like this poem Truman. It has a lot of feeling and almost like a ghostly feel to it. It's funny how places can exist that mean so many things to so many people. Suddenly, they are gone and the memories of their existence slowly disintergrate into nothingness as if they never existed. I guess this is one reason why places like old houses, old hotes, and such things attract me. I think of the lives that were lived in these places and I wonder what all the stories of them once were.