Home

Santa Fe

by Richard Vince

"It never rains in Santa Fe," she said,
Regarding the water streaking down
The café window with disdain.
"This time next year, I'll be there;
Wearing shades and drinking fruit juice,
While you'll be stuck in wet old England."

For me, it was just a name that
Went with Atchison and Topeka;
The sort of exotic sounding moniker
Dreamed up to romanticise the rails.
I never thought of anyone living there.

She stood up, and took our drained mugs
Back to the mottled counter as
I fumbled under the table for my umbrella.

We thanked the proprietor, then took
Respective deep breaths as she opened
The door that had protected us
From the lashing rain.

We refused to let the drumming above
Our heads interrupt our conversation
As we resigned ourselves to a soggy journey.
The emerald brilliance of the freshened leaves
Glinted in our eyes as we imagined these miles
As part of a pilgrimage from the days of Chaucer.

Our immediate destination was known,
But her words returned inevitably to
Her personal Canterbury; the strange and
Distant city that would be the vessel
Of her hope.

I told her that I would miss the seasons,
And she said she had far bigger
Imponderables to concern her than mere weather.
Mostly I need to focus on small things
To keep me from trying to solve
Impossible puzzles. That is why I chose
Not to believe her meteorological statement.

Someday I may discover the truth about
This place that has attained legendary
Status in my mind, but secretly I hope
That I can preserve it as another vital link
To the ashes of my imagination.

02/12/2007

Posted on 04/14/2007
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Joe Cramer on 04/14/07 at 12:28 PM

An outstanding piece, the word play and imagery evoked are excellent!

Posted by Laura Doom on 04/14/07 at 11:52 PM

This may sound somewhat bizarre, but I can imagine this in tandem with a Gabriel Ricard production, as an example of the transatlantic drift :) An elegant narrative, and the 'emerald brilliance' line was, I think, a deliberate device to emphasise the contrast between an imagined ideal and the tangible present, so easily discarded as merely mundane - almost a hint of justification there? Again, a 'snapshot', in that there is no explicit reference to the personal context of the encounter (hence the parallel drawn with GR), which leaves many imponderables for the reader to concern themselves with :>

Posted by Anita Mac on 04/15/07 at 10:18 PM

Wow. Quite a scene captured. Very nice, as I've come to expect.

Posted by Genevieve Sturrock on 04/17/07 at 12:41 AM

Santa Fe is a great place to visit...and linger for a while. But I wouldn't want to live there...I need trees and rain and green grass and air that doesn't suck the moisture from my lungs. Beautifully written, sir.

Posted by Marina Dawn on 05/04/07 at 10:46 PM

we get monsoon rains in summer and snows in winter.

Return to the Previous Page
 

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)