Adirondack Chairs

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Adirondack Chairs

Adirondack Chairs

 


Jigsaw puzzle of greenery, the trees

Nestle next to each in the 

Sunbathing sideways light of sunset.

The yard in the back is filled with it,

Filled with the late late summer side slant

Of sun.

The plastic Adirondack chairs, left, as we left them,

Me looking at you, maybe my feet

In your lap...

No- it was the yard man that set them ajar.

The one time we sat there, your discomfort

Grated on my tranquil story book

Vision of us sitting

In the sun

Drinking 

The Wine.

So we went inside.

 


Now I see them, those pretend plastic

Pale blue, light blue to match

The house

Chairs of ease,

One chair looking at the other, while

the other stares off into

space.

We meant to build a fire, that

Summer, a fire pit

evening of

Romance.

But I saw your discomfort.

Was it the heat? The drone

of bugs?

The chance of a gnat

landing in your

drink?

 


Or was it, something

different,

Something

not found

in the

sideways slant of cooling 

air.

Was it, something

else,

Off in that horizon,

blocked,

by the pale blue, the light

Blue house.

Something

Cutting your sight

off

From the road.

 


It must have been, because you said

Goodbye, several times

That summer. A nod, a

kiss and you were

Off,

in your mind,

because you never

Left, but sat in your uncomfortable

Sadness of not 

Belonging here, or

Where you thought.

Wistful plans set a 

Blaze not by

Midnight cords of wood

in a pile among the 

Rocks.


Set ablaze by whimsy,

A promise, not

Promise.

So we sat that summer

and watched the flowers in the

pots bloom

and the rains carry one

away.

And the gnats gnatting

as gnats do,

Cannon balling into pinot,

Visiting, taking up

Residence, in that

Pale blue light blue 

House

With plastic mountain

Chairs

On the lawn.


The chairs still sit

askew, still 

sit in the slanting light,

Still sit,

Waiting, as I

Do,

For a time

Things

will be

Right with the

World.

We must get to

The other

side of

That summer.

Let the snow pile

High on the 

Chairs.

Get to the whimsy and

the Promise.

Watch

the road for a

time

to travel, and not

sit

in uncomfortable

Sadness,

Askew in plastic

Chairs.






















 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

He wants to go so badly, pursue a plan for overseas living a past lover and escape of feeling like not belonging...and then this thing happened...2020

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allets's picture

Liked

"the gnats gnatting" :D


 

 

djtj's picture

Editorial

Had an editorial suggestion to replace gnats gnatting with something about them getting into drink to remind us how annoying it is to be stuck at home referring up to first verses.  I like gnats gnatting too.

S74RW4RD's picture

I applaud your strategy in

I applaud your strategy in choosing to cast this poem in short lines:  these underscore the immediacy of the language, and also make the whole poem seem like an overheard conversation---with a real sense of the speaker's difficulty in expressing the emotions in the backstory.  The poem's spiritual center is the phrase, "We must get to / the other / side of / that summer," and that focuses the force of the poem upon that urgent need.  I hope I have not trespassed, here, by stating my honest response.  I am really impressed by this poem.


Starward

djtj's picture

No trespass

You nailed it.  It starts dense with scenery and the beautiful summer but like this year dissolves into lets just get through this. I really like this one as well, if I do say so myself. I so appreciate you giving such detailed comments. We have both been on this site for a while. Thank you again friend.~Debbie

S74RW4RD's picture

You are welcome, and thank

You are welcome, and thank you for posting the poem.


Starward