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Lovers, Young Lovers, Down The Creek
i
The banks of either side of this longest
creek in the township seem like borders fixed
against the mundane facts and chaos of
the village; parents' expectations set
too high and too far in advance to have
the slightest chance of satisfaction; and
the fierce, relentless bullied mockery
attendant on unpopularity
in high school's prejudice and harrowing
society. This will end in three weeks,
for summer, until Senior year begins.
A lot of that will have been changed for them
in time's processes as we know from our
perspective and prospect of forty years
forward. But we shall pause here to enjoy
an unobtrusive observation of
our lovers, in this place and time of love
(despite some of their peers' whispered remarks).
ii
A downward sloping dirt pathway leads to
the water's edge; above, left at its top,
four shoes remain, delightedly slipped off.
From somewhere we hear music---faint---a song,
"Dont Go Breakin' My Heart," by Elton John,
shortly followed by "Let Your Love Flow" by
the Bellamy Brothers. Come; walk down here.
Alex (first in the alphabetical
array and slightly older by three months)
is clad in blue---a tee shirt, faded jeans
(bell bottoms, slightly frayed)---and barefoot. Next
to him, Rachel wears a white shirt with lace,
and boot-cut jeans, and white socks with the heels
and toes bright red. They walk, with hands enclapsed,
over fine sand and patches of soft moss.
Although the heat is quite unusual
for this time of the year and in these parts,
a cool mist (quite invisible to eyes,
but comfortably felt upon the skin)
rises out of the water's bubbling flow
over the ancient rocks, both large and small,
tan, gray, and green with stain of weeds---and homes
to tadpoles and crawfish. This has not changed
much in two centuries since pioneers
(among them Alex and Rachel's forbears)
settled this land and founded a township.
A little further on, a copse of trees
(almost square and enclosed, but open on
the side next to the creek) creates a bower,
a quiet, sacred place into which none
can peer or bring disturbance. To one side
of this covert, a slab-like rock conceals
a hole made by geology, not hands
or paws. Into that space, convenient as
it is, Alex and Rachel have concealed
(in plastic bags) a blanket and some cheap
paperback books of "highbrow" poetry
(some ancients; and a suretyship man;
and also other names of less renown).
They read them to each other, taking turns:
verses of early Christianity;
Vergil's eclogues and epic tale of Troy;
the vast, imagined, varied world composed
by that ambassador, deceased too soon;
another old man plodding through the heaps
of culture compromised and battlewrecked;
and with all this, a couple of vampires
and haunted houses tossed in for the thrill.
iii
Thus they enjoy each other's company---
Alex and Rachel, lovers and soul-friends,
with kisses and caresses shared between
them as they turn the pages of their books,
those penetralias through which they glide
unshod, unburdened, and no more alone,
having each other. Here, we take our leave.
Starward
[jlc]
