When the present is overwhelming, revisit the past

Helen Rocks!

I wonder who Helen was
and if the one who immortalized
her on this rock, this highway
outcrop, is still in her life,
if indeed he ever was.
Or if she was some fair
girl, untouchable and lonely
as the boys watched her
from afar, and left this praise
in three-foot-high letters.
 
Along Highway 58, many
have stopped to add
a note, to paint some
declaration, some reminder
that they were here, were
in love. And I have used
this tablet as a way marker
a place to measure my travel.
 
On each trip, I wonder about
Helen. Does she still rock, did
she move on with her life
looking back at the time
her awesomeness was graffiti-ed
on a roadside wide spot? Or does
the boy who wrote this, who
knew Helen in that time,
drive past this place now a man
on his way to visit aging parents
the woman he married motionless
in the seat beside him
his children, sullen and silent
each plugged into their own world.
Does he think back, as he drives
does he smell the spray paint again, feel
Helen’s arms on his waist, as she
laughs in the night, her voice
echoing over the mountains,
over his heart.

Along Highway 58 between Klamath Falls and Eugene this rock had Helen Rocks! painted on it for years, and then one day it was painted over. The next trip over this appeared.