Watermelon Train Wreck

to my dead friend dave

The emerald seasons, high on themselves,
glisten in shimmering mornings.
Divining life through pantomime
illusions, they rise and fall
greening bones bared during the fallow
void of winter’s faded balcony

where you sit forever locked
in celestial observation
flapping your quirky rhythm
in wind that jostles my car
on highway 87 near Moccasin’s
ominous edges.

~~~~~~~
The first stanza of this poem came, and then it changed into a poem to my friend David Arnott. After being hit by a truck on highway 87 near Moccasin, Montana, last November he lingered in a coma a few weeks before dying.  The title will remain obscure.  Dave and I always joked that our daughters were twins with different parents. They were born a month a part, and look like sisters. My poem, The Dead Woman and The Mad Hatter at Beyond the Bozone is the first piece I wrote for Dave.

Please visit The Sunday Whirl and check out some other poems written with these wordle words.  You’ll be glad you did.

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23 thoughts on “Watermelon Train Wreck

  1. I’ve lost a lot of friends young. It sucks. You are left behind with good memories and bad, but no hope of memories to come… that bright future that friends look forward to.

    You will meet up in dreams, though, at least that’s what I’ve found, and even when you know you are dreaming, you still have a good time. I’m sorry you lost your friend Dave, Brenda. And thank you for bringing a new meaning to this week’s Wordle. Love, Amy

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  2. I know it’s something special when a poem starts writing itself and goes in unexpected directions. Something in those first lines triggered a memory; then there was no way to stop it. All you can do is ride it out and feel all those emotions again.

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  3. This may be my favourite of your poems that I have read. It pays to reread and I think would sound good read aloud. One of those poems where I forget there is a wordle involved.

    And the memories don’t go. David will find a comfortable spot in your world where you will sense him. That doesn’t go away.

    margo

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    • Thanks Laurie. It’s interesting with wordle words. I wrote the first stanza and stopped. Reread, ruminated and I kept thinking that Dave is forever stuck in last year. So the rest came.

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  4. The title is really great, and I love how the external landscape leads to the meditation that transforms through the creative act of memory. A sensitive tribute, Brenda.

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    • Thank you Irene. The mind travels when you drive long distances, and Dave was with me on the trip out here, floating through fields of memory across farm landscapes. I’m glad you like the title.

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  5. “where you sit forever locked
    in celestial observation”

    May his essence continue to live on through yours and others’ memories! I am sure it was hard to lose such a good friend.

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