My life lies splayed out across the years
In serpentine course through town and city
I need an old friend to prod the memory-snake
And let me feel it stretch into the past.
The tail goes back to industrial suburbs
And a sad-eyed boy
Who studied the scenery on the wartime stage
And escaped being inducted into the sound and fury;
Then the story bends toward a college town
Where he missed some friends that fate appointed
Being rapt in imagining the hearts of others
Inside the many marks he learned on paper;
Then it makes its way to a Far-East sojourn
Tilting at windmills of someone else's culture
Hitting the wall of Third World awakening;
Then making a loop to the Midwest
To weather the storm he brought back with him;
Then lost windings homeward, coast to coast
One coil always wrapped tenderly around a child
Many convolutions abysmally submerged.
Finally it climbs out, shakes off the flute-song of ancient books
Winding schoolward again to study its own land's culture
Allowed to crawl into a classroom, to teach
‘Freshman Composition'
Which is how it ran into George.
George: quick-witted student and instant pal
You kept our class alive,
Late-met friend to remedy my lonesome youth
You stood out like a ‘Bud' sign in a dim tavern;
Nothing was serious or simple to you
And the rest of that Warren rat-pack
From the favored heights of rusty Youngstown,
But you were good-hearted and tough-minded.
Your remarks were cloud-enclosed captions
In a comic book co-written by God and Satan;
You played your thoughts on heavenly piano
(no talk of your tormented fingers) .
When my marriage exploded, you and Dave Kelly
Let me and my daughter move into Animal House;
You taught her duets and Beatles tunes
She guarded Dave's keys so he wouldn't drive drunk.
Three wild undergrads and a grad-student father
Kept house with a sweet-tempered first grader.
Of course our household scattered soon
I went to work in Philadelphia, then on to China;
You went to law school, then on to New York
Piles of letters have passed between us
As I continued my wandering ways
And you served, and made a life for yourself
As Public Defender at a courthouse in the Bronx.
Now you're getting prickly and hard-bitten
Still you're best for sharing thoughts and poetry.
That's why I don't need this moment's tyranny
And I think of George, to touch the memory-snake
To help me keep what's mine from twenty years back,
To nudge the long body of memory
So I can know the road I came on
And own it every inch of the way.
I am more than these sensations through beady eyes
Sidling up distractedly to flowers and grasses
To flicker my tongue at the wind is not enough
A friend helps me live in the snake-body of my whole life.
.........
Notes: BUD is an abbreviation for BUDWEISER beer. BUD is also short for "buddy." WARREN HEIGHTS is a semi-affluent suburb of Youngstown where families belonging to the professional class lived. Youngstown (in the mid-western Rust Belt)was hard-hit by the steel industry's decline. ANIMAL HOUSE was a movie starring John Belushi about a group of party-loving college students who shared a house.
Going down your memory lane you find your friend George a true friend who had been of immense help through your college days and afterwards.The days with George are your pleasurable memories and still fill your heart with warmth and gratitude.Very well penned piece of poem on an old friend.
A life history told in this poem. One that is interesting and varied. Congratulations on an interesting and well written work.
Thanks for giving it a thoughtful reading. This poem was translated into Chinese by a friend. Maybe you'd like to see the Chinese version. I'm in India now, don't have my laptop withh me. When I get back to China I'll send it to your mailbox. DM
good friendship poem written beautifully- I think of George, to touch the memory-snake To help me keep what's mine from twenty years back, To give this memory-snake a nudge So I can know the road I came on....///
could be George and Me, or maybe George and I. ? i can't tell yet. favorite lines so far: I need an old friend to prod the memory-snake And let me feel it stretch into the past. rapt or wrapped? maybe either one? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Being rapt in imagining the hearts of others................. Search Results Dictionary rapt rapt/ adjective adjective: rapt 1. completely fascinated by what one is seeing or hearing. Andrew looked at her, rapt synonyms: fascinated, enthralled, spellbound, captivated, riveted, gripped, mesmerized, enchanted, entranced, bewitched, moonstruck; transported, enraptured, thrilled, ecstatic a rapt teenage audience antonyms: inattentive indicating or characterized by a state of fascination. they listened with rapt attention synonyms: fascinated, enthralled, spellbound, captivated, riveted, gripped, mesmerized, enchanted, entranced, bewitched, moonstruck; More transported, enraptured, thrilled, ecstatic a rapt teenage audience antonyms: inattentive filled with an intense and pleasurable emotion; enraptured. she shut her eyes and seemed rapt with desire synonyms: fascinated, enthralled, spellbound, captivated, riveted, gripped, mesmerized, enchanted, entranced, bewitched, moonstruck; More transported, enraptured, thrilled, ecstatic a rapt teenage audience antonyms: inattentive 2. archaic literary having been carried away bodily or transported to heaven. he was rapt on high Your use of “its” instead of “his” sometimes ‘throws me’. At least you did not spell “its” as “it’s” like some (otherwise-good poets on PH) do! I think you use “it” instead of “life” sometimes. “this moment’s tyranny” …………..perhaps another poem could explain this? It’s always good to have a friend who is a Public Defender. Bri ;) I wonder what ‘daughter’ is doing now. Thanks for sharing. so, George and I are friends, or the poem is about George and Me.
down memory lane bio-George meant ans means the world to you.
A beautiful snake uncoiling with a hiss back through memory lanes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I enjoyed this glimpse of a life lived so different from mine. Yet there is a commonality- -the friendships that give texture and color and depth and sometimes awesomely silly shallows to our life. Your George is the sauce that gives savory tastes to that portion of your life- may he live on there and in your present.