flash of a memory
(why is it almost always driving)
rocky river to lakewood
bridge over the
metroparks valley
the color salmon pink
(was it a house?
an apartment building?
the color of the sky in sunset?)
riding along
early lessons
late hangouts
always right on time for rehearsals
the flat expanse of northeastern ohio
spreading a suburb out in front of my eyes
somehow gorgeous in its
midwestern gothic/
abandoning the american dream/
passenger seat
then driving, driving, driving
knowing a portion of that street so well–
but the memory starts farther back
a path i only drove a
handful of times
farther back
farther back
seeing the road i took
seeing the memories out in front
seeing to the side where my grandmother survived
(i wish i had asked her more questions about her life)
why are my memories
still so full of
other
memories?