Dear Friends,
The last couple of days, I took advantage of the switch over from first to second quarter and grades being in and did a short unit with my students on writing poetry. It was a bit of self-indulgence, sure, but I’ve got some good little writers in my class. We’re going to kill our writing tests during the second half of the year.
Anyway, it made me think of what a poem about today’s morning of travel would be like in a poem, so here goes….
*****
Logan listens intently
To the ebb and flow of a million feet each day.
Logan sets itself apart
In my memory for so many times I had to say
Things like goodbye and I love you and soon, kids, soon.
Logan’s no beast like O’Hare or DFW, but it’s big just the same.
It’ll tame you
And welcome your weary head.
You can relax if you’re creative
And eat mediocre food.
Logan spits you out with the same aplomb with which
It brings you in.
Logan lies in wait.
Coiled in tunnels, ready to spring,
Boston unfolds the last of its arms and legs.
Run through me.
Run to me.
Boston makes the meek cry and the strong thirst for more.
Boston is narrow and full of cracks.
Boston is tired but wide awake.
Boston doesn’t nurture those who dawdle.
Boston doesn’t nurture those who crave attention.
Boston doesn’t care if you are three or thirty.
Boston just winds and bends and pretends to know where the deals are.
Fish, pennants, a brand-new cap:
Boston is strong but not like the shirt.
Take the 1. Run away.
Take the 1. Fun taunts you.
Fun is flaunted in ways that make donuts seem sexy
And roast beef seem exotic.
The leaning tower of Pizza is no more
Realistic than its Italian counterpart, I am sure.
Wave goodbye, arrivederci, bon chance.
95 will take you.
It will show you signs that say things like Manchester-by-the-Sea
And Newburyport and Seabrook Beach.
Don’t go to those places.
You’ll get lost and lose your way.
You’ll pay, too.
Keep going, friend.
You’ll wind up in New Hampshire, soon, and before you know it
You’ll be in Maine.
Clean air, tall trees…more than you could ever count.
Try counting them, consider it a dare.
You’ll give up before the red hand points to six.
If you stretch your eyes
You will think you see the Atlantic, but you don’t.
You might see water, though.
Drink it in.
Dive.
Thrive.
Be alive.
Live.
Give yourself to Maine.
Drink it in.
Give yourself to Maine.
Drink it in.
It bears repeating.
The tallest tree will eventually fall.
Accept its sacrifice.
Accept it with no avarice.
No languishing cupidity or stupidity.
Maine suffers no fools.
Drink it in.
Breathe.
Kiss the ground if you feel like it is necessary.
Kiss something or someone.
Prepare to leave the rest of the world behind.
Forget Logan’s long walkways.
Forget the Dunks and their tiny holes.
Forget cheap liquor
But cheap dates you can remember.
They are there.
It’s in the air.
Breathe.
Drink it in.
Find the right decibel and scream out loud.
I am here.
I am
Here.
*****
See you tomorrow.
Check the X on Liam's hand. This stopped him from drinking something stronger than a Coke. Well, that and his wisdom. The hat on his head was a gift from Christian Hosoi. No big whup.