Boulder Weekly 3.11.21

Page 20

TAYLORMOVE.COM

Locally Owned & Operated by the Taylor Family

Licensed, Bonded & Insured

Call Today! 303-443-5885

Longmont’s

NOW OPEN!

INDOOR FLEA MARKET 1201 S. Sunset St. Longmont, CO 80501 303.776.6605

OVER 90 DEALERS! Items & Gifts for Ages 0-99 FURNITURE NEW & USED HOME DECOR & TONS MORE! LOCALLY OWNED FOR OVER 30 YEARS!

Open Monday - Saturday 9am-6pm Closed Sunday frontrangefleamarket026@gmail.com

FURNITURE COMES FULLY ASSEMBLED AND READY TO USE

NEW ARRIVALS DAILY!

PUT YOUR

WHERE

Photo: Susan France

20

IS BUY LOCAL I

WE SPEAK LOCAL.

See why we’re consistently the TOP MOVER in Boulder County at

A Lot

by Garrett Okenka There is a parking lot in Virginia where plastic Wal-Mart bags now blow To find a fence post 4 miles out or a lone tree still standing, planted the year before Where carts sit forlorn forgotten in corner spaces with empty coffee cups And subways sandwich bags with balled up paper, like foxtails for child’s play, are windswept with kennel syndrome Thrashing within the lattice walls of their prison I can stand and listen for the creek; car motors, doors, and horns And the vibrating plastic hum of cart wheels over rigid pavement I can smell the winter breeze of idling engine exhaust And the bed bath beyond scent of subway sandwich bread and of cigarette smoke Where once a wood burning chimney and the subtle decay of leaves let on that winter had come And a man on the horizon across an ancient field dimly made out from my place behind the tree line would be seen with an armful of wood, and life told me that man was my father, but I told life otherwise and turned my back, going deeper into my haven through thorn and bramble, alone I stand alone now over flattened plastic flasks of Fireball nips Beneath light poles with bird spike branches Thinking of my blood beneath this blacktop Am I as lost to this world as the forest which once grew in this place, now paved over with market growth Where my legs first felt the cut of thorns And my imagination climbed the tops of every tree turning each thick patch of leaves to bear Can a body so removed from roots bare the weight from these decades of deadfall? Is this what aging is like? Or am I now on the dying side of life? There is a parking lot in Virginia where as a child I hid away whole days To find within the forest a sanctuary A sanity away from abuse, away from the know life And now as a man I stand vulnerable beneath light poles and profit margins Where the machines are still cutting decades after the last wild tree fell.

Garrett Okenka lives in Boulder, but is from everywhere east. He started writing runaway notes at the age of 12 and has been running and writing since. MARCH 11, 2021

I

BOULDER WEEKLY


Turn static files into dynamic content formats.

Create a flipbook
Issuu converts static files into: digital portfolios, online yearbooks, online catalogs, digital photo albums and more. Sign up and create your flipbook.