________________________________Not teens, but twenties, well out of high school,
Well out of college, on my own, more or less,
Alone and restive, I picked it up –
What’s the big deal?
Sleepless, I sought distraction. Anything
Would do: Words on page, descriptions and
Dialogue, characters and action, the
Weariness would win and I'd
Succumb to slumber.
Leaning, tilting, the
Momentum pulled me on – no
Sleep that night, no rest. Like a
Rock in my shoe, each page was a step that
Stirred my attention, jolting and jostling me
Awake! To arms! To arms! The fight
Must be joined – awake!
A scramble for jeans and jacket, and
Out to the street in the cool early morning.
Dark, desolate – didn’t matter. Nothing
Open, nowhere to go – didn’t matter. Just get
Outside, move, walk The Hill for hours,
Watch the dawn, sniff the pine in the
Thin air, hope for release.
Glinting, the Flatirons caught the sunrise as I
Headed home to recline and recover, to
Await the ride.
And God answered: ‘You take that onion then, hold it out to her in the lake, and let her take hold and be pulled out. And if you can pull her out of the lake, let her come to Paradise’ (Dostoevsky).
Friday, March 31, 2017
The Night I Read ‘Catcher in the Rye’
Labels:
Boulder,
J.D. Salinger,
poetry
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