I Go Back To The House For A Book Poem by Billy Collins

I Go Back To The House For A Book

Rating: 3.5


I turn around on the gravel
and go back to the house for a book,
something to read at the doctor’s office,
and while I am inside, running the finger
of inquisition along a shelf,
another me that did not bother
to go back to the house for a book
heads out on his own,
rolls down the driveway,
and swings left toward town,
a ghost in his ghost car,
another knot in the string of time,
a good three minutes ahead of me—
a spacing that will now continue
for the rest of my life.
Sometimes I think I see him
a few people in front of me on a line
or getting up from a table
to leave the restaurant just before I do,
slipping into his coat on the way out the door.
But there is no catching him,
no way to slow him down
and put us back in synch,
unless one day he decides to go back
to the house for something,
but I cannot imagine
for the life of me what that might be.
He is out there always before me,
blazing my trail, invisible scout,
hound that pulls me along,
shade I am doomed to follow,
my perfect double,
only bumped an inch into the future,
and not nearly as well-versed as I
in the love poems of Ovid—
I who went back to the house
that fateful winter morning and got the book.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Michael Shepherd 13 August 2009

I Go Back To The House For A Book (Correct full version) Billy Collins I turn around on the gravel and go back to the house for a book, something to read at the doctor's office, and while I am inside, running the finger of inquisition along a shelf, another me that did not bother to go back to the house for a book heads out on his own, rolls down the driveway, and swings left toward town, a ghost in his ghost car, another knot in the string of time, a good three minutes ahead of me — a spacing that will now continue for the rest of my life. Sometimes I think I see him a few people in front of me on a line or getting up from a table to leave the restaurant just before I do, slipping into his coat on the way out the door. But there is no catching him, no way to slow him down and put us back in synch, unless one day he decides to go back to the house for something, but I cannot imagine for the life of me what that might be. He is out there always before me, blazing my trail, invisible scout, hound that pulls me along, shade I am doomed to follow, my perfect double, only bumped an inch into the future, and not nearly as well-versed as I in the love poems of Ovid — I who went back to the house that fateful winter morning and got the book.

13 3 Reply
Sydney Lea 01 July 2020

To Joseph Pedulla: I mean, whoever heard of an old sailor, say, who stops some wedding guests in their tracks top talk about albatrosses?

0 0 Reply
Mimi in Oz 20 April 2019

I love everything I have read so far of Billy Collins' work. Relatable, whimsical, cheeky, quirky, funny and universal. Thanks Billy.

0 0 Reply
Rosie shalf 13 March 2019

I’m getting a kick out of this Pedulla guy. He has a cynical remark about every poem billy writes. It makes me wonder why he keeps reading them. Does he get off on being cynical? Maybe he needs a billy Collins poem to get his cynical buzz going in the morning, sort of like a cup of coffee.

2 0 Reply
Brendan Stanford 16 April 2019

Same man. Joseph is a very angry fella. Seems like he's a little insecure.

0 0
Fabrizio Frosini 28 April 2016

Thanks, Michael, for the correct full version of the poem! (box below)

7 1 Reply
* Sunprincess * 31 January 2014

.......what an imagination...an incredible write for the love poems of Ovid...

3 3 Reply
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