Last Wednesday, on a whim,
I turned down the Old Dutch Road

Although it was not the place of my birth
Or my early years, I felt that nostalgic
Twinge which will draw you down streets
Where you would otherwise never go;
To the bosom of people you would
Otherwise never care to see

I suppose I went to see if it had changed
And was not surprised that the years
Had been both kind and cruel
To the Old Dutch Road.

The houses looked like they’d aged
Even lathered in new wood and aluminum
And the trees seemed thicker now
In a way that the sedentary
Get from too long lolling in the sun

Only the people were beyond all recognition
But I looked long into children’s faces
Seeking one I might have recognized
Yet, knowing the familiar had been strangers
Back when I graced this pavement
I knew the expedition was in vain
Before I lighted my lamp.

*

My mother had dragged us from the grimy warrens
Of the city to a place she likened to Nirvana
Thinking that growing up suburban had some
Healing effect on souls the city had never damaged
In the first place

And although children are resilient sorts
And learn to grow into new surroundings
The way they do their shoes
I always felt the blisters on my soul

Moved too late; torn from the lips
And arms of someone I adored
I entered the Old Dutch Road too late in life
To float in its lethargic oils

And instead of acceptance, the calm of
An endless skein of noiseless weekends,
I found my way back to the grime only
To discover the lips I missed
Had been shuttered to romantics and their words

And my blackened heart
Instead of blaming fate
Took all my loathing out on neighbors
Who didn’t even know my name

To many there I was
The tall cold stranger
Who was only seen
When it came time to shovel snow
And I found it grimly amusing to
Hear one of them ask my mother
If I were a cousin or hired hand

She embraced her neighbors with barbecues
And pumpkin pies, like it said to do in Good Housekeeping
Magazine. I gathered my belongings and went down into the caves
Of Alph and tried to be a poet.

And only when I came of age
Did I leave the Old Dutch Road
Packing my possessions in an Oldsmobile;
Leaving without graduating; Missing the party
In my tasseled cap and gown

And swimming in anything and
Everything in the ensuing years
I seldom turned any thought to
The Old Dutch Road

And only Wednesday, on that whim,
And only then, with that lantern
Shining did I begin to see
What I had never missed
Had never missed me back

Oh, those were wasted years for both of us;
The ones we spent in cold disharmony!
Me and the Old Dutch Road

01/18/2011

Posted on 01/19/2011
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch