Friends return every year Vermont
Martha’s Vineyard, even Tuscany, to see family
to see friends. I prefer
somewhere else, to a place I do not know.
Nova Scotia boat took forever. An engine missing.
Strangers cross together.
Fog, Late night ride passed dark
wooden houses 12 miles to a woman
renting rooms on a lake. She wears unexpected
gold earrings. Her breakfast tiny wild blueberries,
eggs with yolks a yellow we’ve never seen.
Now a road with lucky number 103
through villages and towns, through lives
we imagine, passing through.