Monday, June 12, 2006
Remembers
(Got a poem from my past in my inbox today...)

remember
we sung stevie tunes
in the baptist mobile,
and counting the key changes?
and the endless cups of coffee
and going to berklee to hang?
and you wore a butterfly sticker
under your left eye?
and i was a mess of immersion
and jazz
and you wanted to be a writer
and i wanted to be an actor?
and remember
sitting
at your lake down a path
behind your parent's house
listening to motorboats?
were there bicardi breezers involved?
and remember i wrote you in romania
to inform you that i was in love with you?
and more cups of coffee
and greasy breakfasts
in a pullcar
and then i worked at that coffee break
and yes
did you work there too?
and remember
i took a male date
to your wedding and was nearly late?
and remember
we danced together
in west side story
and dug kerouac
and vonnegut
and jazz?

i just got knocked out
by this wave of remembers.
i love remembers,
but i remember that your remembers
are made of steel,
and can drink my remembers
under the table.

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8 Comments:

Blogger Katie said...

Beautiful, Mella. Our past, whatever else it might have been, is what got us to where we are now. Sometimes its good to remember. Thanks for sharing a bit of your history :)

Jamie

Blogger LJ said...

Bravo. Bravo. All of it, but especially the last lines.

Blogger Mella said...

Thank you, both. I can't take credit for this though, it was a suprise poem in my inbox yesterday that was sent to me by a special friend from my past.

Blogger Peter Matthes said...

I miss my past.

Sometimes too much.

Perhaps someone is trying to get you back.

Blogger JunieRose said...

I have often thought how wonderful it would be if we could have more than one life, simultaneously. We all desire different things from different people.

Is there any such thing as ONE person being all we need or desire in all parts of our life? I have come to think-NOT!

But - we have to make choices!

Junie

Blogger Mella said...

Junie This is true for me, Junie, absolutely. Although, not in the sense of a person, but moreso in a place. As much as I loved this friendship, it's Romania that I wonder about, not him: here life would've taken me if I'd returned to Romania.

Still, it was quite nice to hear from him and to know that the memories of our friendship are just as important to him as they are to me.

Blogger B said...

how wonderful.

Blogger Lauri said...

I have/had a friend like this. Thank you so much for sharing the poem and the memories.

As for the above comments, maybe it's why we write, to experience more lives than the one we are given....

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