Red Bandanas

The log truck driver ties a red bandana

To his longest log –

And off he rolls, the red bandana fluttering.

The sawmill is a hilly and twisty hour away.

The carpenter ties a red bandana

To his longest 2 by 4 –
And off he drives, the red bandana fluttering.
His remodeling job a straight quarter hour off.


Left behind I am.

Log trucks, carpenters’ pick-ups speed away.


I catch up, much later,


I stand by the sawmill, invisible to the men aside the saws’ screaming rips.

I stand by the house, invisible to the men hunched over the nail guns’ shots.

What am I?

What have I become?

An old man, a face in restroom mirrors,

Reading books into sleep ….

Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky early March 2014


Author: Gene Novogrodsky

Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, a Brownsville resident for nearly three decades, writes North American border slices, from eastern Canada to central Mexico, and in between. He is one of the founders of the Narciso Martinez Cultural Arts Center Writers Forum in San Benito. He sometimes participates with the informal Resaca Writers Group in Brownsville. He prefers, however, to read to two or three attentive listeners – when asked!


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