River of grass

now that I think of it: it was that night,
stranded in the rain, watching a wet
car drive by, slowly, painfully, drifting in
a river of blurry headlights, squelching
through a pothole, a game of hopscotch,
landing all four wheels on clear asphalt,
a story through that car window, the drama
of sky and reflections and black sheets of
unrelenting rain — you see me trying to hail
a cab, a rickshaw, a stranger, anything that
will stop, you see my outstretched arm, bare,
gathering raindrops, gathering cold,
everything heightened, everything base,
you see things differently when you know
you won’t see them again,

I wonder if it is warm inside the car, what
song is playing on the radio, does it smell
of emptiness, of waiting, are you curious,
wanting to pull over, asking if it is cold, is
there someone to meet, is there somewhere
to be, does it smell of eagerness, of waiting,
the truck in front floats away, behind you four
vehicles honk, it rains harder, tail lights flash,
the car looked black, wanting to blend in,
afraid to break the line, is there somewhere
to be — now that I think of it: in the middle of
the afternoon, sunlight and shadows cavorting
in the grass, dry grass, warm grass, a river of
grass, I think, you see things differently when
you see them in the rain,

6 thoughts on “River of grass

  1. Like this a lot – how vivid this reminiscence and what a clever play of point of view. ‘everything heightened, everything base…’ is a great line – and that repetition of ‘grass’ towards the end.


  2. My comment disappeared. The imagery is so powerful in this poem. I can see the outstretched arm, feel the difference in temperature – cold, outside the car, and the imagined warmth within. So much impact in “you see things differently when you know you wont see them again.”


  3. This poem is so visual. I can see that arm iutstretched, feel the cold outside, the imagined warmth inside the passing cars. The darkness. Well done.


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