You take this road because it's the way you go.
You let your eyes close.
And let it be one you actually drive.
Nothing to look at on it.
The kind you get to the end of without remembering any of the middle.
Take a breath in.
And let it go back out with nothing behind it.
Again.
Your hands are where they always are.
The seat has your shape in it.
Houses go by on both sides.
A mailbox.
A yard.
And trees.
Then another yard.
And you are slowing down.
You didn't decide to.
Something came in at the side of your eye and your foot was off the gas before the rest of you caught up to it.
Come to a stop.
Let the engine go quiet.
Look across at the house.
Ordinary.
Somebody lives in it.
A light on somewhere.
Toward the back.
And nobody at any of the windows.
And down the side of it.
Up under the eve.
Out of the weather.
There's a ladder leaning against the wall.
It is yours.
You knew that from the road,
Before you were near enough to read anything on it.
Before you'd slowed enough to look.
Get off and go over.
It's a few steps off the shoulder and across the grass.
Close up now.
Aluminum gondole.
Cold to stand next to.
There is tape wound around one of the lower rungs.
With your own writing on it.
You put that there.
It's gone too faint to read.
And you don't have to read it.
And down one rail,
A run of paint.
A color you picked out.
You know the room it came off.
And you could walk to that wall right now.
Everything about it is in plain view from where you are standing.
There is nothing here to work out.
You meant it.
That is all that happened.
There was a day.
And a reason,
And you said yes the way you say yes.
Now look at the bottom of it.
The feet aren't in the dirt.
There are two blocks under them.
One under each foot,
Set square,
Holding it up off the wet grass.
Somebody put those there.
Go up the rails with your eyes.
There are dents in it you didn't put in.
Scuffing high up where it's been set against something.
And set against it again.
It's been used more than you ever used it.
Put your hand where the two halves ride on each other and feel the track.
There's grease on it,
Fresh enough to come off on your fingers.
It works better than it did.
The house stays quiet.
Nobody comes out.
Put your hand flat on the rail and leave it there.
What do you get for never asking?
It doesn't warm up under your hand.
Take your hand off it.
You have one of these at home.
There was a day you needed a ladder,
And this one was over here.
So you went out and paid for another one and brought it home.
And you have gone up it ever since.
That was years ago.
Every time you go up the new one.
This one is what you are standing on.
And the door is right there.
You'd knock,
They'd come,
You'd say the thing,
And they'd say the thing back.
And they'd forgotten.
That they meant it to.
That,
Of course.
And they'd walk it out to the road with you.
It would take a minute.
Breath.
You have had a long time to do that.
And then you would have two ladders.
And nothing of yours would be out here.
Before you go,
Take hold of it and lift.
It comes off the blocks easy.
Lighter than you had it.
Set it back down.
On the blocks,
Square,
The way it was.
Go back across the grass.
Get in.
And shut the door.
Now let the road go out.
A house.
The grass.
What's leaning on the wall.
Come back to whatever you are sitting on.
Whatever your weight has been going the whole time.
But your eyes open.
You didn't lose anything.
