Wednesday, March 4, 2009

(untitled): "Where did it come from, that..."

Where did it come from, that
odd mix of doubt and certainty, that
more-American-than-thou feeling? On a hill
far away there's probably an old
rugged cross and there's a brand-new
red barberry bush too and I think some
goldenrod - which does not cause
hay fever - ragweed does - but which
used to get blamed for it, being so
bright and obvious. Walking down it in the mists of morning, seven
or eight years old headed toward wisdom and passing the
mountain of compost from the wealthy neighbor's garden,
walking down the footpath, meeting Bobby Hutchison's
bicycle path at the bottom, off past Andy's house to horse-chestnut
trees and Eddie the crossing-guard cop and school, I knew
the names of everything and everyone and said them over
to myself or to my
pretty little sister beside me.

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