Old friends take root in verisimilitude:
I see you stand by turnpike cafeterias,
waiting. The girls always made us wait,
their sugar stops and restroom breaks. In dreams

I see you laughing down the road without me.
Springfield, Columbus far behind, Cleveland
ices only memory. In Pittsburgh I'll catch up.
I know I'll find you roaring, card-playing,

making spectacle. We'll be young again
like children whirling dervishes
in public places, fingers feathered out,
reaching forward, touching future's here.

Now that it's come we can't go back:
our children sleep in seven states of difference.

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