Now that I am old and wise

 I saw this meme on Facebook today, and nodded my head.  It is so true!

I've only written one or two poems on this theme, but here is one of them:

Riding El Rapido, 1970

 

 

Somewhere between Lisbon

and Salamanca

in the hot, dry July,

so different from humid home,

I noticed my hair, long then,

to my elbows, felt

sleek and straight as it never was before,

and never was again.

 

He smoothed it, praising thick silk of it,

all spun cherry wood gold in the desert sun.

The rattling train stopped frequently.

He'd jump off and buy us wine and bread.

 

By sunset, we shared our third class compartment

with a famiy of six, baby crying,

chickens coughing the dry dust.

 

We were 22 then,

just out of college.

Everything was romance.

Our lives, El Rapido.

 

 

There's a better one about hitch hiking in Ireland, but I can't find it now.  Will repost when I do.

I found it!   It was never published in my books, but was there in my "30-30" file:

Hitchhiking in Ireland, 1970

 

Myself on the road on a sunny September morning,

the rain having stopped just now,

with my brown hair plaited,

thick braids thumping on my back,

yellow raincoat, moldy brown shoes

and my thumb out,

standing by the deserted road.

A frowsy black sedan stops.

Skinny man with stubbly cheeks,

random teeth,

grins and opens the passenger door.

I climb in, onto the torn leather seat.

He's asking me about my boyfriend.

I tell him I'm engaged.

I notice that his worn black trousers have a large hole

in the thigh.

Shortly down the road

he pulls over by tall green hedge

and gets out.

Come on, he says, I want to

show you something.

I follow him a brief way

into a pasture.

What's here? I say, seeing nothing

but a pasture in the sun.

He's frail, skinny, and short

almost as me, and poor.

He doesn't know what to do with me.

I huff past him and say

there's nothing here. I'll go

no farther with you.

He gets in his car

and drives away.

 

I call to myself, down thirty seven years,

watching the road, watching the rusty car

sputter into the distance.