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Big Day
by David HillOn a Winter’s day,
snow fell in big white flakes
that collected bus fumes
from the city air.
I believe it was February, lunchtime,
me in my $25 hair cut and cologne,
holding a brief and a book,
conducting cold
up from the pavement
through my tasseled loafers.
There I stood,
corner of Liberty and Main,
staring,
that same corner where the
street preacher had railed
all last summer.
I ached and longed,
hid it as best I could,
still re-reckoning my worth.
I saw you and Rhonda,
there in the window booth at Woolworths,
warm, in yellow lamp light,
coffee in thick mugs,
a golden girl
animated, for
the coming Big Day.
Through the dirty glass,
I think I saw you see me,
pretend not to.
A few years later,
I would hear how it all went smash.
How it was
him and her,
and you
a cuckquean, left to
re-reckon her worth.
01/19/2014 Posted on 01/19/2014
Copyright © 2023 David Hill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 01/19/14 at 10:31 PM Sad reflection on a romance and marriage gone wrong. Too much of that these days. Commitment and real love seem in very short supply. |
| Posted by Leslie Ann Eisenberg on 12/25/14 at 01:23 AM Love the contrast of temperature between the two scenes, the watcher and the watched. I felt the chill run up my spine and soak into my bones - "conducting cold
up from the pavement." and "still re-reckoning my worth" was heartbreaking. is cuckquean a play on cuckold? that's the way i took it. everything is not always as it see(m)s to be! xopk |
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