The Long Drive

I was reminded of you when I accidently melted an ink pen,

on the back burner of my stove.

I last used the pen to hurriedly jot down an important note,

now long forgotten.

 

Remembrance is the only disease I have successfully shed.

Except recalling you, my brother, when I melted the pen

and each time I drive the lakeshore where I last saw you.

 

Strange, how you fell and never stopped falling.

 

The trout bite arrived late this year.  The willows already yellowed

and the sky displaying a hollow blue.

But then, trout have always outsmarted me

or perhaps I was late in trying.

 

I drove home on the opposite shore this time

and I kept the sun in my eyes.

I didn’t glance at the waves shuffling white across the water.

I didn’t turn up the radio or crank the windows down

and I had forgotten how long the drive is.

 

—Mitchell Hegman

For Chuck Taylor