The first time I drove past them, I didn't
have my camera with me. I mumbled a few
choice words, mentally apologized to Mom,
and drove on, making furious
notes to self:
Bring your camera next time you visit the
parentals.So I did, and that's when I
passed them the second time, speeding by in a bus,
a flash of color and gone.
DAMN.
Being the Frost freak that I am, I jotted down
some lines that blipped on my teleprompter:
Men work together, whether they work together
or apart.
(Which of course wasn't what I
meant to say, but I knew these lines belonged to
a poem somewhere that did).
It was the median on the Garden State Parkway:
When they mow it, they leave the patches
of wildflowers
If I'm not mistaken, there
is even a sign:
Do not cut the flowers.
In August, there was a profusion of yellows,
reds, and white in straight edged patches.
This
week, (it really hurt), they're all pale purple.
Just that soft colored purple, and grass, and
cars whizzing by.