The View Along The One Hour Drive Towards Home.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

at first, tall buildings
and all cemented roads,
along the streets some
stores and men and women
walking briskly, and old women
guided by their grandchildren
towards some clinics, and
some ambulant vendors selling
their stuff.

and then we pass a gate, towards
another scene, of gardens and
fields, and fences and houses,
and this sense of abandonment
and loneliness creeping inside
the whooping silence of the
car.

and then another gate welcomes
us, signage, and kilometrage markers,
and some mango trees and palm trees,
along the streets of woes and
sideways of regrets, and some lingering
thoughts about those "what ifs" and
"what could have been", and


then you are home, a blue gate,
a trellis of ternate vines, with
blue and white flowers hanging
on the walls of the house, and
this sense of humid indifference,
until the barking dogs meet you
at the garage, and go with you
into a garden of poinsettias,
and a fountain of youth in the
middle of this brick house and
dinner waits for you in the open,

lights hang on trees, music starts
to play, and friends greet you, singing
and clapping,

happy birthday to you.