Saturday, Feb. 01, 2003
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
I will take the S. Hadley exit
to your house
and I will try to make things right
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.