Monday, October 7, 2013

The opposite direction

The Minnesota girl still lives inside me.  When I ask for directions or opinions, and I know the other person is wrong, I still have the need to explain to that person why he or she is most likely wrong.  I hope for clearer understanding.  Sometimes it works.  Most often, it doesn*t.

I walked and climbed all night
In my dreams.
My daughter,
It seems,
Had possession
Of the car.
Halfway up a hill
I asked a familiar-looking stranger
The location of a particular street.
The stranger,
A woman with long blonde hair,
The stranger,
She stood
At the bottom of the hill.
She told me to walk
In the opposite direction.
I knew she thought I spoke
Of a different street
In a far-off suburb.
I do not live there
I slipped and slid down the hill
So I could explain why
She did not understand.
She patted my hand,
Encouraged me
In the opposite direction.

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