What We Know Too Well
It falls from us,
a towel heavy from having
taken the water from our skin.
The familiar melody
that wormed its way through
the brain, to wedge itself
in a slim crevasse--
we sing it without knowing
we are singing, our voice slides
so easily around
its grooved and bony frame.
What we do most often exists
only in average,
its commonest take. The black
grounds flecking my index finger
after pouring
the coffee into the filter, the button’s
give and green glow, the scream
of the hot water
through the pipes, the showerhead:
None of this is happening now.
Today’s shower
is yesterday’s, the car is planted in
every parking space you have ever
chosen before
at the grocery store. Even with
your new winter jacket, in every
memory you have
in which you are cold, you are
wrapped in the same blue wool coat.
We need the
protection that this offers us,
the soothing possibility that
all things can
stay as they are when we last
encountered them. The towel
will be there
when we reach, the man’s face
and throat will still be smudged
with stubble,
the woman will answer when we
dial the number no longer hers,
not for years.
We bury our face in what we know
too well, it is so soft and dark.
Yeah, there's a certain degree of Groundhog Day to every day, isn't there? I especially like the car "planted" in every parking space you have ever seen. And the blue coat every time it's cold.
ReplyDeleteAnd yet, we need these familiarities, at least to some degree. Interesting stuff, Hannah. :-)
At first this made me feel uncomfortable, then comfortable, then resigned and comforted. Good one, Hannah!!
ReplyDeleteThis is arranged and presented in a very interesting way, with the words sitting on top of themselves. I like the particular details you've used, because they are utterly familiar, and yet when one goes missing or stops working or causes some problem....
ReplyDeleteI felt that way just a few days ago...each time season changes and I reach out for last year's warmer clothes...the way I used to be...I find stuff in my coats' pockets...I remember with comfort xoxo
ReplyDeleteI like the structure of this and the nostalgic emotions this plants in the front of my brain.
ReplyDeleteI just went back to something I know all too well. The comfort was fleeting, but wonderful.
ReplyDeleteI feel this way more and more. It's kind of freaking me out.
ReplyDelete