Monday, May 21, 2012

Before We Knew

Smoking was the old normal
of my childhood.
My mother's friends
lit their Camels between Cokes
on Saturdays at the local drug store.
My dad plowed the corn
with his Lucky Strikes
in his shirt pocket.

The crimson circle on the white
pack, the golden camel on hers
were images transferring
meaning to letters, my eyes
learning to read.

Her moon eclipsed his sun,
the ring of fire that held
them, comforted me
on darkened nights
curled to dream of
camels and pyramids
and the journey home
in our Studebaker sedan.

No comments:

Post a Comment