love story in five acts
/Jen Hallaman
i.
from opposite ends
of the dark
& crowded booth
we converge
glossy smiles
glossy laughs
play it so so cool
the way you play it cool
when you’re twenty-two
& dying
to hide
the weight of life’s
weightlessness
beneath the table:
our knees’ first kiss
ii.
you ask to drive me
north, away from this
cigarette-smoke city
we thought we’d swim
but early spring
the lake is liquid gold
shore-side we drop
our slick facades
to trade secrets
ignorant to raw sun
eavesdropping
binding our images
to turbid tarn
iii.
immortal, we
watch summer unfurl
by now,
we love each other
& the blue
mountain light
unravels us
water gently spools us
back together
iv.
time drags us to a place
more jagged & expansive
than our youth
but oh, how soon we miss
our far-off waters
we visit reservoirs,
public pools, alpine lakes
sparkling like ice in june
we burn in unobscured sun
freeze in mountain runoff
fight
through crowds
for one glimpse
of a white cascade
we drive and drive
without a map
searching for a place to swim
but nowhere
that we land
reflects
who
we have been
v.
if we never make it back –
was it worth it?
to permit those shadows
of our souls
escape
or should
we forget them
altogether
should
we look
only ahead
as though
their love-
story doesn’t matter.
Author’s Note: This piece was inspired by the North Georgia mountains, where my husband and I spent our earliest days together. During the summer, we'd drive up from Atlanta to cool off in a beautiful mountain lake, which we often had all to ourselves. We left Georgia long ago and are still searching for an equally perfect place to swim.
Jen Hallaman writes poetry and creative nonfiction. She lives with her husband and baby daughter in Northeast Ohio, where you can find her baking strawberry pie, hiking, and exploring local bookstores. Her writing appears or is forthcoming in DIAGRAM, Peauxdunque Review, Sierra Nevada Review, Creative Loafing Atlanta, and others. You can read more of her work at www.jenhallaman.com
