Potholes At 1131 Poem by Susan Lacovara

The long driveway
Drives home the point
Of there being no one at the door
Again...how then, and this, once more
She shakes her head, no one, no more
To greet and give this day it's rest
And she'll confess
To the worn out smiles
She has polished up
To help pass the miles
Of minutia mingling, ears ringing
In crowds that swear they'll recall her name
Just the same, she wishes they won't
They don't see what's underneath
The concrete resolve of standing straight
Checking her watch for the now late
Blind date that promises unchartered sparks
She parks her car in the dirty field
Believing it is somehow not real
This labyrinth maze through summer haze
She's too old to be so young at heart
As so starts up the dusty road
With a wagon full of her need to unload
What has pulled her, thread by thread, undone
Another pothole, under setting sun
She kicks a pebble from her shoe
Imagining what he'd say
If he only knew
She never knew another's love so true for her
Now so confused
The pothole deeper by the day
Disturbs her drive, her right of way
And all roads lead her
Badly broken, back to shades of his green eyes
Her pothole heart to sympathize