![Once again in summer
where prairie blacktop ribbons
over Saskatchewan’s slow rolling hills
past grazing cow and half grown grain
driving on the road I helped to build
back when I was eighteen teen
five hundred years and yesterday ago
hauling asphalt to the spreader
in a truck hot, dirty, and mean
and eating steak for breakfast
with men of tar and grit
still with a smile
each time I pass
a road crew at their work
the odor, odious
to you and almost all
as sweet to me as youth
and lilac in the wind](https://i0.wp.com/www.neilmeili.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/09/Memory-Lanes.jpg?resize=600%2C600&ssl=1)
Highway 2 from Moose Jaw to Mossbank
Photo by author, September 2022
Highway 2 from Moose Jaw to Mossbank
Photo by author, September 2022
THE ALBUMS
Mother’s shrinkage was marked by domicile
House, apartment, retirement and nursing home
shedding at each move, furniture, china, and art
except for, and never, the old photo albums
heavy in padded leather brown and green
Each visit when conversation stuttered to a stall
(Religion all but Baptist drowned
and what use is weather without crops)
out would come the albums
and in we all would dive
for pennies
bright and shiny at the bottom of the pool
Here’s one from 1958
how young the queen looked then
MEMORY
What I remember most is
the earlier the memory
the more space to store it
A DEBBIE MOMENT
I was noticing again the other day
watching a movie, strangely enough
called “Remains of the Day”
that even though you died
you haven’t gone away
In the movie
a bird gets trapped in the house
and tries to fly
through the high ceiling glass
Remember the time in the office in Austin
when the sparrow was trying in panic to
escape in this way
You spoke to it in your stardust voice
and it landed in trust in your hand
I remember the windows you flew against
and your trust so light in my hands
And it’s a comfort to see
you and the sparrow
both flying free
THE MAN IN THE DESERT
The man in the desert remembers
and a tear begins to form
A tear so long unshed
ninety percent of the water is gone
Dragging its chain of crusted drops
it carves a white canyon
down his long and leathered face
A cracked tongue between cracked lips
reaches to taste it – Oh so sweet
WAVES OF MEMORY
I was sailing into waves of memory
as I drove to my boyhood home
To find that some heavy breakers
had turned to light light foam
Here I walked for miles in freedom
and my home was warm and real
And here my good dog saved me
from a coyote’s tender meal
Here all my innocence was known
And most of it shattered too
As I remembered what people said
and then what they might do
I thought that I could face those waves
with the things that I now know
But I was more than a little surprised
by the strength of the undertow