I drive the pike, north and west, in the dark.

After two day of black suits, Amens, a plastic box full of ash and bone, darks ties and condolences.

There was a rabid aunt with sharp eyes, wearing a shade of lipstick that is twelve years old, trying to distill me in a dining room.

Domestic virutes are dictated to me that are two shades more palid than my own.

and I drive the pike, alone, in the dark

and I tell myself

that when I make the toll booth

and I give the gatekeeper

my 2 dollars

and purple ticket

that if the quater in my change

says: heads

I will take the S. Hadley exit

to your house

and I will try to make things right

but

she, under the sodium lights

in cut off gloves

gives me the quater

and it's ass faces the sky.

So, I go home

and eat a sandwich.