H
e a r t S o n s & H e a r t
D a u g h t e r s
of A l l e n G i n s b e r g
N
a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 4 :
A r c h i v e s E d i
t i o n
RICHARD WILMARTH
the
war that never ended
floored through northern Virginia
with my car losing power
in the midst of a rainstorm
and leaving the wet highway
to the sound of truck thunder
while thinking this is the end
rolling into the station
dim, grey, lost in a damp fog
almost accepting defeat
but getting out of the car
and opening the bent hood
to look at the steel engine
to see nothing wrong at all
but checking all the fluids
and even asking the boy
who was dreamlike and moody
sort of standing near the pumps
about the situation
and he said the fluid’s fine
but it could be something else
so he went in the station
and he got me some cleaner
to mix with the gasoline
which i most thankfully did
when i was pumping the gas
and it continued raining
then the boy said straight to me
that if I had some good luck
my problems would be over
so with the boy beside me
i went inside and I paid
but just for the gasoline
because the cleaner was free
and it was just for the moment
i saw the boy and his friends
now gathered around inside
wearing torn, grey uniforms
saying they were real sorry
about my datsun’s window
and as i opened the door
and left the eerie station
i started my weary car
and drove north into the storm
dreaming of april and the
ghosts of the confederate dead
[This
poem by Richard Wilmarth (1949-2003) was retrieved by Arnold Peterson, who
oversees the Richard Wilmarth Papers at the University of Rhode Island. For
more on Mr. Wilmarth’s work, see http://www.uri.edu/library/special_collections/registers/manuscripts/msg165a.xml. Originally
published in NHS 2012, http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs12/.]