When the morning comes that you don’t wake up,
what remains of your life goes on as some kind of
electromagnetic energy. There’s a slight chance you
might appear on someone’s screen as a dot. Face it.
You are a blip or a ping, part of the background noise,
the residue of the Big Bang. You remember the Big
Bang, don’t you? You were about 26 years old, driving
a brand new red and white Chevy convertible, with
that beautiful blond girl at your side. Charlene, was
her name. You had a case of beer on ice in the back,
cruising down Highway number 7 on a summer
afternoon and then you parked near Loon Lake just
as the moon began to rise. Way back then you said to
yourself, “Boy, it doesn’t get any better than this,” and
you were right.
“The Big Bang” by Louis Jenkins, from Tin Flag: New and Selected Prose Poems. © Will o’ the Wisp books, 2013.
***
Editing to add:
This song doesn’t match the poem perfectly, but it does make me smile. Hopefully it will make you smile too:
Words for the Year 
Great poem. This site greets the reader with so many wonderful poems that each day sends us out into the world to look for beauty.
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James, hello!
Such a treat to see your comment, thank you! I love hearing from long-time readers and friends.
I recently traded emails with a lovely Oregonian (?) poet who wrote a Stafford-esque piece that struck me immediately. I practically begged her permission to use it. 🙂 She told me she had the chance to meet Stafford before he passed; and I thought of your note. What a small world this can be. (I have her piece planned for the first week of summer…you’ll like it.)
Have a peaceful Sunday and a wonderful week ahead! Christy
Sent from my iPhone
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