paradise lost

 

 

my dad was a blue collar worker, an electrician
at one time he worked three jobs just to keep us afloat
going out to eat was a luxury and usually meant hitting up the little italian joint down the street
I liked playing the jukebox

one saturday he surprised us with a road trip to the shore
we swam in the ocean and stayed in a motel
I thought it was paradise

fragment

 

I see a train or the subway and I am transported back to the 1950s
my grandmother would take me on the train to Boston
(she always wore a dress and cuban heeled shoes)
for a day of shopping
and blueberry muffins from the bakery at Jordan Marsh
one time she took me to the movies
we saw Bambi and I cried all the way home

 

going home

 

“The film of your days and nights is wound up tight in you, never to be re-run – and the occasional flashbacks are faint, blurred, unreal, as if seen through falling snow.”

 

~ Sylvia Plath

 

 

flight school

 

the old rope swing

 

 

“You haven’t seen a tree until you’ve seen its shadow from the sky.

~ Ameilia Earhart

recollection

 

“Your memory is a monster; you forget—it doesn’t. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you—and summons them to your recall with will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you!”

~ John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany