From The Writer’s Almanac
Poem: “If You Are Reading This” by Lynn Levin, from Imaginarium. © Loonfeather Press, Bemidji, Minnesota. Reprinted with permission.
If You Are Reading This
GIRL WITH DOG IN RAIN! Sweetheart, where are you now?
Saw you at 16th and Walnut with your chocolate lab under an awning.
It was raining parking lights and car horns. I was the guy double-
parked delivering a tray of bagels to a corporate meeting. Nice stuff, 5
flavors, cream cheese and chives, butter daisies. Our eyes met, do you
remember? I can’t get you out of my mind. [Box 347]OLD LADY AT QUIK MART. When I weighed your peppers, you
said I had my thumb on the scale, then you called over the manager
who yelled at me and docked my pay. You: Old bag in a tan overcoat,
muffler, purple pocketbook, evil eye. Me: Goatee, geek glasses, facial
hardware. Please give me the opportunity to stab you. [Box 1601]CHAD, LET ME EXPLAIN. That guy you saw me with on R7
local on Columbus Day meant nothing to me. He’s just a commuter.
Your silent treatment is unbearable! I’m beggin’ you baby, come back!
[Box 776]PENN CENTER ELEVATORS FROM 16th TO 30th FLOOR. I
want to push your magic buttons. I want to draw Mona Lisas on your
beautiful skin. You: Backless red dress, black heels. Me: Bald guy, 35.
We rode up together, you got off at 19. I was too shy to talk to you.
Now full of regrets. How about sushi or tantric sex? [Box 1446]GUY ON R7 LOCAL OCT. 10, EVENING COMMUTE. You sat
next to me and suddenly it was Valentine’s Day. You liked my Offspring
button. I told you about med tech school. You let me take your pulse. It
was almost like holding hands. You: Hilfiger sweatshirt, laptop, got off
at Somerton. Me: Hip chick, red hair, Capri jeans. Let’s pick up where
we left off. [Box 777]YO! YOU THERE ON DEERPATH DR. I’m the telemarketer you
dissed. Wasn’t selling you anything, SOB, just giving you a free estimate
on kitchen cabinets. I know your number and where you live. Call now
to apologize. [Box 961]OFFICEMAX, FEASTERVILLE, YEAR AND A HALF AGO. You:
long black trenchcoat with three-piece suit. Me: Asian girl with black
jacket, wet curly hair, tight black pants, sunglasses on my head. You
stared at me a long time waiting at checkout. We looked at each other
as you walked out. Will renew until I find you. [Box 1674]
As you may have surmised, I am a big fan of The Writer’s Almanac. I love the written word (when well written) and my personal collection of books, while not as vast as my collection of music, numbers more than the average household. (In addition, I am also a big fan of Garrison Keillor, who reads The Writer’s Almanac daily for American Public Media on National Public Radio. I love Mr. Keillor’s deep rich voice, and I could listen to his stories about Lake Woebegon for hours, and I have, but I digress…)
I receive a daily email from The Writer’s Almanac, some of which have been referenced here over the past several months, which provides daily insight to literary related events in world history. Additionally, each day a poem is presented. On some days the poems move me beyond words, but I would venture that on most days I tend to skim over the poem to get to the ‘this day in history’ piece.
Today, the line about ’16th and Walnut’ caught my attention immediately, as it is, to anyone familiar with downtown Philadelphia, right in the heart of Center City. I made further connection with this poem when reading about the R7 (the SEPTA rail line from Trenton, NJ to Chestnut Hill East, which I used to sometimes ride, aside from the R3 line, when travelling into Philly by rail,) Penn Center, and Feasterville. It’s been a while since I’ve moved away from Philadelphia, and I rarely get the chance to visit anymore (I visit Manhattan much more… sigh) but reading this poem made me realize how much I miss the familiarity of my hometown.