Saturday, February 18, 2017

On remembering a smooth-skinned callow fellow

The Two-faced Window

My life in a morning mirror
checking to see whiskers missed,
unhealed cuts or bug-bite welts
Never seeing the sun beaten man
looking from behind the glass. 

From somewhere a photo appears.

and I am ambushed by time.



















Who is this wizen farmer,
come in from the faraway fields
Worn saddle leather face,
unkempt grizzled hair, glasses 
framing an unseeing eye?,

Damned if I know.

I know him not.
   


Shocked and amazed by it all. - Gunnar

5 comments:

Coline said...

Mirrors do that too. Skipping cheerily by I catch sight of an old woman who does not match how I feel inside...

George A said...

If you want to embrace the sligthly disreputable farmer ethos you need to swap out the Loon hat for one that says "International Harvester" or maybe "DeKalb Corn". The hat shouldn't be new. Better if it's sun-bleached, has some diesel stains and maybe the bill should be frayed and slightly delaminating at the front. And trade in the Honda. You need a pick-up, preferably with a tobacco juice stain on the driver's door.

Gunnar Berg said...

When I was a kid my father was a farmer and sold Pioneer Seed Corn. He wore khakis, a polo shirt, and a golf cap. He always drove a new Buick Electra. I cannot imagine tobacco stains on the door. :-)

Margadant said...

I wouldn't sweat it too much. Critics of that weathered countenance are ignorant of the "times" that produced it -- listening to "Surfin Bird" blaring in a dormitory stairwell; digging the old truck out of snow-filled ditches; safaris in the Gungle; shooting rats in the dump; having the presence of mind to yell to the Doctor, "No! No!Go for his good leg!"; road racing around Fountain Lake; driving to South Dakota for a cup of coffee, then turning around and driving back home; acting as troop leader on trips to take in Satchmo, Al Hirt, and Pete Fountain; acquiring all the arcane knowledge necessary to collect split bamboo fly rods and old French bicycles; not to mention picking up the deft social skills to enable one to hob-knob with the initiates of the Grove Café, the Elbow Room, of Lanesboro, and Lulu. Critics of that weathered look lack basic character. None of them have the qualifications to even ride drag for "that Berg Outfit." Oh, and keep the Loon cap.

Gunnar Berg said...

Jeez. My life in one paragraph. Well done.