Tuesday, March 30, 2004

In A, After Midnight

Past the Episcopalian church driving back
from the radio station cars leave their brights on
until they have almost already passed. Town
mostly sleeps, her houses dark except for one room
facing the street. The moon
is a halved onion behind the trees. Geese
call under the bridge. Peepers answer.

Things get more definite closer to home.
The baby will be sleeping with her feet on my pillow.
The police car idles behind the turnoff
to the river, and the cornfield.
Over the sound of the road on the wheels
the jazzgirl on the radio sings Jolene, Jolene
in A after midnight.

posted by boyhowdy | 12:20 AM |

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