I kept the radio tuned
to the oldies stations,
one after another,
and sometimes, if I was lucky,
I’d hear “Blackbird”
or “I Want to Hold Your Hand,”
or another song I once loved.
I’d sing it loud
as if every word was mine.
This was the last day of my first
long drive on my own,
and I hoped not to stop
if I didn’t have to, hoped
I could stay awake and alert
all the way to Portland.
For days I’d managed
to find music I could sing with,
even though I can’t sing.
Or won’t, if anybody else
might hear. But then,
at the western edge of Idaho,
the music fizzled into static.
I turned off the radio.
Wished I had CDs.
An iPod. Anything except
the nothing I had.
The sound of the highway
can lull you like nothing else.
Without music the pain won’t let go
even though the landscape changes.
It keeps gaining on you.
Everywhere I looked everything
was brown. Gray-brown, to be precise.
Gray-brown hillside after hillside,
all of them vacant of trees.
The roadsides gray-brown, too,
and the highway itself. The sky
even grayer, browner, the way I felt
when I wasn’t singing.
Soon the car would take me
through the mountains
and over the icy pass
and I’d be out of one state
into another. Geographically,
I mean. Trouble is
there would be no music
in the mountains.
I’d go it alone.
The way I’d been
going it and going it.
That’s the way it’s done:
You turn on your radio. Try
singing your pain gone.
Copyright 2018 Andrea Hollander
Andrea Hollander moved to Portland, Oregon, in 2011, after many years in the Arkansas Ozarks, where she ran a bed & breakfast for 15 years and served as the Writer-in-Residence at Lyon College for 22. Hollander’s 5th full-length poetry collection, Blue Mistaken for Sky, is due from Autumn House Press in September 2018. Her 4th was a finalist for the Oregon Book Award; her 1st won the Nicholas Roerich Poetry Prize. Hollander’s many other honors include the Vern Rutsala Award, an Oregon Literary Fellowship, two Pushcart Prizes, and two fellowships from the National Endowment of the Arts.
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Brilliant as always, Andrea. You thought you were alone, but you had me sitting in that car with you, crowded in with the other readers.
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Wow! One of those times when I’m amazed by words put together in just the right way. Many thanks.
In keeping with the thread of comments, my son moved from Ashland (a lovely spot) to Portland. A place he tells me is good for lots of things. For you, too, I hope.
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Beautiful, Andrea. I wish you health, wealth and happiness in Portland. I have a son in Ashland, OR. Next time I’m out there, I’ll look you up. xoxo M.A.
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