Poem 26: The Road Home from Pre-School

Through the trees
from the Industrial Park,
I could see
the frozen bend in the river.
Over the iron bridge,
glazed with snow,
I could see puffs of mist
at the confluence.
This was my frigid return,
down the hill, across
the river, over a ridge.
The clouds were thin,
the sky, blue. You
probably didn't notice,
absorbed with your friends
at school.

Poem 15: 24 Hour Store

Let me tell you about the letter that flickers
and the letter that's out, on the sign tonight
at the 24-hour grocery on the north end of town
inside, all those lonely aisles, those cans of beans
the bagger's brief smile and the man
holding a scratch ticket, but out here
the light of the red letters beckons over the parking lot
the trees are cold, all the carts are listening
in their little pens, touching, resting against the bars
like a drunk man trying to regain his balance.
Oh, it is quiet, but the lights are lovely; let's take
a drive. All down High Street, past the yellow flashing light
past the darkened fitness center and the car wash
past the hospital and the group homes
here we are, here we are: it's our turn.

Poem 3: Interstate

It's dark now, driving home
red tail lights, green highway signs
The road is its own city
dear neighbor, dear dashboard lit
in the next lane, is this
your exit? The radio says
all those workers, the radio says
every square state, every between
I'm here, staccato reflective
yellow, pavement, thinking
of the leaves on the trees
against the brilliant blue
sky, yellow stretching into
I'm here, down the ramp
my city at the city's end
stop lights, the donut shop
and up the hill, the moon