Originally posted 10/28/09.
Last night’s drive home
was grand moment
after grand moment
of four of us
laughing and chatting
as well as we could
over Parliament blaring,
cigarette after cigarette flaring,
New York City
in the rear view,
home still
some hours ahead.
The towns between
New Haven and New London
are strung along 95
like green pearls on a black string.
I have forgotten their names,
for there was no room in the car
to hold them.
Forgive me, towns
between New Haven
and New London.
You deserve more
than a mention here.
You ought to be
destinations
and someday I hope
I’ll make that right
but last night, you
were just distance
to be covered,
just white letters
on green signs
breaking my trance,
neither
the good time
we were leaving behind
nor the home
we were longing to see.

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