This is another quick poem from the second of my Worth 1k poetry journals. It’s about nostalgia, I suppose. There’s a part of town where a surprising number of the women whom I’ve had emotionally intense and meaningful relationships have been living, almost all of which while I was living (one time or another) where I live now. These neighborhoods are easily half an hour away from each other, by car, and some of these relationships occurred well before I (or they) drove. So there are a lot of memories of this drive across town, in the middle of the night, after spending time with someone I care about.
This poem was written on one such drive, after spending the evening with the woman who I came to marry, driving through an all-too-familiar neighborhood an experiencing an all-too-familiar feeling that spoke to me that night of all the times I’d felt that way before. Of all the times I’d thought it would become something more before, and it didn’t work out.
This time, it would work out; it did work out. I just didn’t know it yet.