Memories of Summer
Hands jammed deep into my jacket,
I walk home through the crispy wind
and watch a lonely, rusted leaf
scratch its way down the empty road.
Last time the wind was so cold
you and I huddled under a blanket
on a mountain peak at night.
The sky above was a dark mirror
reflecting city lights far below, where
The Great Salt Lake gleamed faintly at our feet.
Just days before, with rolled denim jeans,
wet and tight around my knees,
I followed you into that brine which
bit our legs, stung our noses, and salted our lips.
We splashed and sparred and dueled . . .
like our dueling forks had fought for
the muddy chocolate pie at Applebee’s.
They clinked and scraped, scraped and scratched . . .
scratching, like a lonely, rusted leaf
blowing down this empty road.
I've written three of four poems that have to do with losing a girlfriend. This one I wrote for my college class but honestly it had more to do with this idea I had about the sound of a dried out oak leaf blowing over the road than because I was distraught about the girl. I DID have a lot of fun with this particular girl over one summer in the mid '90s, but when she wrote me that she'd met another guy I was completely over her within 24 hours. It was because we really were just great friends but never had any real chemistry, and deep down I knew it. Wish I could say I got over all girls that quickly! (Favorite Dwight Schrute quote: "My feelings regenerate at four times the speed of a normal man.")
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