Parade Float, 2012
For many years we have celebrated July 4 at our extended family’s summer cottage in Maine. After the small town parade in the morning, we go home to prepare our potluck dish and gather with acquaintances in the afternoon for a party. Seeing people we haven’t seen for a year can be complicated, producing the sensations in this poem:
Hail, Festival Day!
First the parade: old
cars, fire engines,
floats carry costumed
neighbors. Then
the party: annual
acquaintance makes
conversation hard.
Even the names slip
from these not quite
strangers: is this
the grandmother who
reported two weddings,
or the mother whose
child had cancer?
An interior parade
imprints names,
connections: she’s
Mary’s daughter, he’s
Frank’s houseguest.
Is Joan the artist
or the realtor?
Brain tires with
body: oil of politeness
cannot loosen stiff
ligaments, strained
from standing
so long at attention.
freethoughtandmetaphor 
Jul 05, 2012 @ 07:15:18
Thank you for a lovely poem. I can feel the complication, the social strain in your poem of knowing so much and remembering so little- I can relate. I am enjoying your posts and sorry that I haven’t started writing in my blog more after a 6 month hiatus. . .
Jul 06, 2012 @ 05:06:10
Thanks for the comment. You know how a writer appreciates specific reactions. I hope to be reading more from you too.
Jul 08, 2012 @ 06:56:01
Hi,
I love your fourth of July poem because it hits at so many truths that happen in life. When I think of my own visits to my family in the USA, I forget names of people I haven’t seem in years, people who I grew up with or people with whom I attended the same church. Not seeing these people on a regular basis, the changes are then nerve-wracking. I could relate to the gathering, knowing that it reflects a part of my experience.
Ciao,
Patricia
Jul 08, 2012 @ 15:51:23
Pat, I’m glad this resonates with you.