Three stanzas

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

I remember the night we camped out
     and I heard her whisper
"think of me as a place" from her sleeping bag
     with the centaur print.

I remember being in her father's basement workshop
when we picked up an unknown man sobbing 
over the shortwave radio

and the night we got so high we convinced ourselves
that the road was a hologram projected by the headlight beams.  

--from "Classic Water," David Berman

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