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Poetry

Scenic Route

by Barrett Warner


    Knowing that two people
    can make love and come away
    in different moods--
    like Sara, after taking it
    farms her eyebrows in the bathroom
    while I get urges
    to buy jumbo colas at 7-Elevens--
    I realize how impossible
    to imagine we could have
    the same picture about Wachapreague,
    our dinner of brandy and quail,
    a sleepy midnight,
    walking around town in the morning
    with a dumb look on our faces.

    Renting a johnnie boat
    we navigate the shoals
    and here we beach,
    scaring up the plovers
    running across sands
    to waves breaking
    where I look for her
    but she's still in the boat
    trying to start the motor.
    When I catch up to her
    she's doing chronic ovals
    in the shallows, jambed.

    "The thing is" she says,
    "We got to make Norfolk by 7:00."

 

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