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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384804" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Blue Ridge</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Up there on the mountain road, the fireworks<br>blistered and subsided, for once at eye level:<br>spatter of light like water flicked from the fingers;<br>the brief emergent pattern; and after the afterimage bled <br>from the night sky, a delayed and muffled thud <br>that must have seemed enormous down below,<br>the sound concomitant with the arranged<br>threat of fire above the bleachers.<br>I stood as tall and straight as possible,<br>trying to compensate, trying not to lean in my friend's <br>direction. Beside me, correcting height, he slouched <br>his shoulders, knees locked, one leg stuck out<br>to form a defensive angle with the other.<br>Thus we were most approximate<br>and most removed.<br>  In the long pauses<br>between explosions, he'd signal conversation <br>by nodding vaguely toward the ragged pines. <br>I said my children would have loved the show.<br>He said we were watching youth at a great distance, <br>and I thought how the young<br>are truly boring, unvaried as they are<br>by the deep scar of doubt, the constant afterimage<br>of regret—no major tension in their bodies, no tender <br>hesitation, they don't yet know<br>that this is so much work, scraping<br>from the self its multiple desires; don't yet know <br>fatigue with self, the hunger for obliteration<br>that wakes us in the night at the dead hour<br>and fuels good sex.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  Of course I didn't say it.<br>I realized he watched the fireworks<br>with the cool attention he had turned on women <br>dancing in the bar, a blunt uninvested gaze <br>calibrating every moving part, thighs, <br>breasts, the muscles of abandon.<br>I had wanted that gaze on me.<br>And as the evening dwindled to its nub,<br>its puddle of tallow, appetite without object, <br>as the men peeled off to seek<br>the least encumbered consolation<br>and the women grew expansive with regard—<br>how have I managed so long to stand among the paired <br>bodies, the raw pulsing music driving <br>loneliness into the air like scent,<br>and not be seized by longing,<br>not give anything to be summoned<br>into the larger soul two souls can make? <br>Watching the fireworks with my friend, <br>so little ease between us,<br>I see that I have armed myself;<br>fire changes everything it touches.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Perhaps he has foreseen this impediment. <br>Perhaps when he holds himself within himself, <br>a sheathed angular figure at my shoulder, <br>he means to be protective less of him<br>than me, keeping his complicating rage <br>inside his body. And what would it solve <br>if he took one hand from his pocket,<br>risking touch, risking invitation—<br>if he took my hand it would not alter <br>this explicit sadness.<br>   The evening stalls,<br>the fireworks grow boring at this remove.<br>The traffic prowling the highway at our backs, <br>the couples, the families scuffling on the bank <br>must think us strangers to each other. Or,<br>more likely, with the celebrated fireworks thrusting <br>their brilliant repeating designs above the ridge, <br>we simply blur into the foreground, <br>like the fireflies dragging among the trees <br>their separate, discontinuous lanterns.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ellen+Bryant+Voigt">Ellen Bryant Voigt</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384804" data-title="Blue Ridge de Ellen Bryant Voigt" data-description="Up there on the mountain road, the fireworks
blistered and subsided, for once at eye level:
spatter of light like water flicked from the fingers;
the brief emergent pattern; and after the afterimage bled 
from the night sky, a delayed and muffled ..."></div>
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