From Arizona Diaries. In the Old Hotel

How we capture time…
Pin to wallpaper?
How do we manage to capture
Herons, falcons, stick figures,
Imaginary reality of the days begone?
How bright was the sun back in the day
When the picture was taken, the moment
Imprisoned for good - no bail.
How the ladies glowed, all smiles and sun.
How we are mesmerized by all things old,
The out-of-print name and face,
The imprinted dust,
The empty railroad station
With the forever word, “Closed”, posted
On the misty glass of the door.
I still can see and smell through the window, though:
The musty smell I didn’t know could last
Past my childhood -
I couldn’t imagine existed anywhere anymore, -
Couldn’t imagine the legacy of my forgotten familial planet
Passed on to some other kid;
The retro smile on the waitress’s face -
They’ve stopped manufacturing faces like this;
The hands of the ranchers, notably, women;
And the pseudo-infinite tracks,
With its rocking, its promise of movement,
Offering false hope of escape,
The tracks through the double obstacle
Of the windows.
And yet, the presence of past is more palpable here
Than I’d like to believe:
Enters the obsolete sound of the passing freight trains
Waking me up so I can witness tomorrow’s arrival,
Ledgers cleaned by midnight.
Tomorrow’s being
Delivered by the clock’s hands.
I’m checking out tomorrow
As it’s being upgraded to today,
As someone else's yesterday sneaks into my suitcase.
Preferably, my lingerie will smell like Mary Pickford’s
For a day or two -
Not like my grandma’s wardrobe.

We defend with such valor
Against sadness at the loss of memories
that are not even ours.



___
Translation into Russian is here: http://stihi.ru/2012/07/18/8916