Saturday, August 2, 2008

Cranford , New Jersey

I knew someone from Cranford
My first trip east. 1959
Eighteen. Eight-hundred miles in a 47 Plymouth
Delivering her grandmother's car from Chicago

Met again years later but she was in love
with Richard Nixon
right up to the final V-for Victory
under the blades of the black helicopter

This is not a poem. Someone from Cranford has been visiting the Barking Dog. But they/he/she never stays.
A ghost of summers past

1 comment:

  1. ah yes--that feeling, and those sitemeter geographical mysteries.

    i frequently wonder if saying hi to that regular visitor from, say, arizona, or andalusia, would be embarassing for them!