down the road but do not cross,
do not go past Susan's house, do not
talk to strangers, feed the dog.
Just this morning sun filled
my scrunched nose, snow was good
to eat, I ran ahead.
But
road
is already down
the road, two-car dream, house
machine,
onl
off is what it knows,
and down the road the road ends
at another road, in a field,
in mid-air, the freeway years
ago in California, or this year,
when the road fell on the road.
Love your country, go to church,
but down the road the road ends
are tied in a knot that only
a child can undo. That's
where you come in, you
of the
everywhere,
but also
you of the here and there,
eating crumbs that lead
to the table, coiling string
on your fingers, keeping time.
I slept over at Susan's house.
I slept over again but now I wake
in the nimble shadow that is
your hands and there we are.
The car starts, we're in it,
but only the road is passing by.
