Poem from my trip yesterday

Going Down the Wrong Road

 

“Make a left instead of a right,’ I said in the

dawn’s early light to my chagrin, because

left was wrong and right was right.

 

“The moon’s up above, so it must be ahead,”

I said, “I’ve got a feeling in my gut making me

wonder and wanting to see what the map says.”

 

Sure enough the map lied and said, Beaver Creek

was straight ahead, but, “Wrong way, wrong way,”

like magic the voice on the cell phone said to the

driver who looked at me with burning eyes..

 

“There ain’t nothing shaking because of forsaking

a right turn for a left. If we hadn’t made a mistake

the beautiful carved rocks we’re looking at may as

well be stored in a box.”

 

That made it all right, and she didn’t want to fight, I

thought, until she put the gas pedal to the floor in a hurry

to get to the shore. I cried in shame for calling her by the

wrong name and for taking her so far out of the way.

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