Standing Moment (A Memory Picture)
Standing in line among the lost; at last, with nowhere else to go except to the land of reminiscence Dwelling on the paths we took as naturally as pie, while missing all those other chances. We wandered on the lanes of memory-- bowling lanes, traffic lanes, Elaine’s, swim lanes-- those mighty lanes that might have been, those gusty, rain-filled single lanes along the country fields. There was that bit of pink and yellow by the tar-paper shed, next to the cottonwood And the 50 gallon fuel tank, over by the spare tire with the petunia bed. An aproned woman on the low wooden porch, pink cream and yellow peaches, coffee cake and burning wood. Yes, that is exactly how it was.
