And I’ll Be Out All Night
Poetry
Radio on, we ride the gray snake of highway through New England
October—the shock of saffron-shot treetops and tangerine leaves
Always startling, seem even more so along this country road, after two
Decades of Florida’s ceaseless green, yet they daze me less than the man
Rambling next to me, who casually shifts the red Mini’s gears, left hand
Unconsciously tapping song beats against the steering wheel as he
Narrates the mixed CD he’s made for this road trip date to not-so-
Nearby Connecticut, a two-hour pilgrimage to my first pizza place in
East Haven, where he slides next to me in the booth instead of across
Reminds me how simple and magical an act of love can be.
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