Still, yet, still and so on   Leave a comment


From inside the pizza place, I watch the November rain. An old lady parks in front, steps out of her car and into the wet day. The slight incline seems to give her pause. I start to open the door to help, but she turns back to her car, unlocks the door, opens it, leans in and reaches for a cane. She shuts the car door, but does not have her purse cleared and so shuts the bottom edge of her soft purse in the door. She finds her keys in her pocket, opens the door, shuts the door again, adjusts her purse, her cane, her determination, and walks towards the door where I stand watching her. I open the door for her and she says, “Oh, this isn’t the door I want. It’s next door, I’m going.”

I want her to come inside. I want her to be “my” old mother. I want to hold the door open and bring her out of the rain and hear her tell me,” Everything will be all right.”  I think of the old lady’s struggles to leave her car and enter the correct door, – a metaphor  for writing, for life, for finding a way –  “Bless her heart. You can’t say she’s not trying.”

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Posted November 16, 2010 by strongjacksonpoet54 in Uncategorized

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