Damn, damn, damn
Sometimes it takes a while
For things to hit me
For me to see the things
That may be so obvious to others
But they have something I do not
They have the luxury of distance
So they may see things more
Quickly than I am able to
But I didn't see this one coming
Until the realization
Slapped me between the eyes
As I felt the pain as it
Stabbed me in the heart
I tried to write but my mind
Kept wandering through the past
I started seeing a few images
Pictures I have of myself
That were taken at the bridge
I remembered the day
That my boyfriend asked me
To put on my denim shorts
And model them for him
So he could try out
His brand new camera
He photographed me
In the front yard
Of the old farm house
Then we went for a walk
I took a picture of him
Standing beside a road sign
That warned of a DIP in the road
I'm not sure if he got the joke
But I thought it was funny
Then we walked on
Towards the bridge
The road made a sharp right turn
And wild Tiger Lilies lined both sides
Of the road leading up to the bridge
Where he took several nice shots of me
Some standing at and sitting on
The rails of the old bridge
It was then that I realized
I had just as many
Connections with the bridge
As I did for the dam itself
Then I thought about how
Small the bridge actually was
It was a wooden single lane
That cars always slowed down for
Then I thought about the time
That my younger brother
The River Rat and I
Climbed down the bridge supports
That were like telephone poles
We climbed down them
To the large concrete pad
That the poles rested on
In the middle of the river
We'd climbed down there
Just to smoke a joint
When we were done
We climbed back up again
Because jumping off the
Concrete into the river
Would have been far more dangerous
There were broken bottles
And all sorts of trash that was thrown
Off the bridge into the river
Then I smiled as I remembered how
My brother called his friends
A bunch of chicken shits
After they refused to climb
Down the bridge support with him
And how he told them
That his sister had bigger balls
Than any of them did
I also remembered spending
So many hours with River Rat fishing
On the banks of the river
Off a huge outcropping of rocks
Where the reflection of the bridge
Rippled across the surface of the water
Then I remembered the first time
That Wolfmoon and I
Went for a walk down at the river
We sat on the same rock outcropping
And she took pictures of me
One of them I still have on my desk
She also took a shot of the bridge
With its reflection in the water
Then many months later
The first time that Wolfmoon
And I held each other
Was on the banks of the river
On those same rocks
And she and I began to spend
All our spare time together
Then the winter came
And it was too cold to be outside
Since we had no place of our own
We'd drive around town
All night in her black '79 Mustang
But we always seemed
To end up back at the river
Wolfmoon would park her car
On the side of the road at the bridge
Where we'd have to hide our eyes
From the headlights of oncoming traffic
That would shine into the car
I spent so many hours in her car
Parked at the bridge
Where we'd talk or listen to music
And yes, we even made out there too
We used to refer to
Parking and making out as sparking
Sometimes it would get so late
That she would cover the clock
On the console with a cassette case
So, we couldn't see how late
It really was, because neither
Of us wanted to leave
The security of her car
Or this place just to go back
Home to our parents' houses
To this day, I have a problem disc
In my back that I know came
From all those nights
Of making out in the
Bucket seats of that Mustang
Why we never tried out
The backseat is beyond me
I remember that it was really small
But it still might have been more
Comfortable than those front seats
My family moved into the old farmhouse
On Coltrane Mill Road in 1978
I moved out in November of 1987
I only lived there for nine years
And now have been away
For many more years than that
Time has changed this
Sacred place from my past
The bridge is no more
The dam is no longer a dam
The whole area will eventually
Be completely underwater
But nothing will ever
Erase the memories I have
Of the years I spent there
For they are etched into my soul
As deep as the river itself
For a part of me
Will always remain
Down at the river
10.02.04
I was editing the updated portion of the Author's Notes I'd recently written for the poem Sad, which hopefully you read before reading this poem. Anyway, I was comparing the features of the new bridge to the old one, when I suddenly realized that I had just as many connections to the old bridge as I did to the dam. That's when it hit me that even though most of the dam remains, the old bridge was completely gone now.
A few weeks ago at work, I saw a picture in the newspaper of the site where the old bridge used to be. The only thing that was left was the concrete pad in the middle of the river. Even though I saw the photo, it still didn't make it real for me. Not like seeing it in person would have.
I think that's the reason it took me so long to actually make the connection, because the night that Kodi and I saw the dam, I didn't see the old bridge. The location of the old bridge was less than a quater a mile downstream from the dam. And even though I tried to get to it by driving down another road, I couldn't because there were barricades across the road. And it was getting rather dark, so I decided not to park the car and walk. But I think it is something that I will do eventually. I feel this need to see that area for myself.
Now I understand the trepidation I felt, when my friend first mentioned that I should go check out the new bridge for myself. I remember my reply to her at the time was one of uncertainty that I could actually go. Then it took me two weeks to get up the nerve to do it. But when I got back home, I was a bit surprised that I didn't have more of an emotional reaction at seeing the old dam and all the changes to the entire area. Little did I realize that it was all still there just lying in wait for the opportune moment when I'd least suspect it to attack.
It started innocently enough. I was just writing, when I started seeing images from the past. Very slowly at first, I saw images of my old boyfriend and photographs that he had taken. The shot of me on my Bio page was one of the photographs that he took that day. Then more and more images popped into my head; events with my brother, then some with Wolfmoon, until finally I realized that it wasn't only the dam that was a sacred place to me. I spent just as much time at the bridge, and it was just as special. That's when it hit me that that special place was really gone now. And that even if I went back there, I could never go back there, to those days in my twenties, when I had the body of Venus, when I was fearless, when I was falling in love with a woman for the first time, and when an old stone dam and wooden bridge were an adventure waiting to happen.
Soon after my parents bought that property in 1978, they learned of the plans that had been in the works for fifty years to build a huge dam and reservoir. And that most of their property would eventually be underwater. Over the years, I've heard them regret their decision to buy that property a few times. But I on the other hand, will never regret living there.
The first three pictures were the ones taken of me by my boyfriend, while Wolfmoon took the last two shots.
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