Vladimir Huber > Poems > Summertime

Atlantic City, NJ, Feb. 23, 1972


By Vladimir Huber

It was the picture of her,
but it had more life than in real.
The shocking memories
of that different summer.
I looked again,
and she didn’t want to leave.
Well, I guess the picture was better.
It was less threatening,
and easier to convince.
In a way, I still feel guilty,
for me and for those who told her.
Well, I can’t blame her,
she was locked-up, and that’s sad.

I spent a life in darkness,
and chills run me over,
when I bring it to my mind.