Saturday, May 26, 2012

Sure town

small town shore
kids studied me with 
discerning skeptical eyes
as I asked questions about 
"rout" 609, the girl ringing up
costumers in the supermarket
shaped like a barn asks whose
house I planned to visit
and what's the address,

I'm just trying to find the road
I tell them deflecting their 
questions for whatever
paranoid northerner's reasoning 
I could muster in my brain,

The kid in tight gray jeans bagging
finally rattles of a convoluted 
left-right-left, pass three churches
(holds up his fingers) then you'll run into
611 and camp grounds and
there on your right should be 6-o-9,

thanks I wave and head for the door running
the directions like a Rolodex through my
driver's brain until I hear the girl,
innocently blonde and bright
pink lipsticked, ask if I want
a paper and pen to write it down,

I'm not out the door and
could have easily turned back around
but I don't.

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