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Poems


Maine Turnpike Honeymoon

The bride driving then,
hours later, when I passed the car the second time.

No doubt about its being the same well-used Chevrolet --
Impala, or perhaps Caprice,

"JUSTMARRIED" scrawled across the back window.
Earlier, in Connecticut,

he was driving -- smiling,
looking at her, then the highway, then her. Now

he was asleep in the passenger seat, head turned away,
and she was chewing gum, fiercely,

steering with both hands tight on the wheel,
glaring ahead.

It didn't seem to me like
a good start.


July, 2001


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