Summer Sodas

Tasting the chilled can of soda under the burning afternoon sun
I am again standing on the shore of the river I once played in
During the hot summer months of my youth

The sandy shore warms the bottom of my feet uncomfortably
Until I wade out into the cool, murky flow and
Spread out on the rippling body of water

I float downstream with sunlight dazzling through the flanking trees
Bird and cricket chatter muffled by liquid earplugs
Along with the steady rhythm of my own breathing

I would play in the water all morning until thirst guided me to shore
To crack open an aluminum can of cool relief buried in the ice chest
Stowing away my memory in a fizzy time capsule

Years later, like a bomb set on a timer, this recollection explodes
Blasting me backwards to those carefree moments
It is the little things that get you…

Jamie Morris
April 27, 2008

June 5, 2015: Today I learned that my poem is describing a Proustian Moment. What’s that?

“A PROUSTIAN MOMENT: a moment of sudden involuntary and intense remembering, when the past promptly emerges unbidden from a smell, a taste, or a texture.”


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