The child asks, bringing it to me in handfuls. We stop at the Walt Whitman Service Area— No sign of Him save some “Democratic Vistas” & “Drum Taps” on a plaque near the Micky D’s Let’s go find the grass I say to my two-year-old beauty and We pick one blade from the median Then back we go in the forever car Hours later, pulling into Richmond She, half awake in my arms mumbles Let’s go find the grass Copyright © 2014 by Lee Ann Brown. Used with permission of the author. |
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