George in the Car

George, I was at the kitchen table eating my bread,

when this great light came from reading your poem.

I haven't been that surprised in recent memory.

And there are cities in our house,

and there are trees in our house since then.

George in the car,

a field of stars, lavender and white.

And riding out over these long miles

you're waving to me a sign to be alive.

George, I would like to say

how I saw seven dogs on this one single morning.

The sky was that kind of grey that is beautiful.

They were traveling, going by.

George in the car,

a field of stars, lavender and white.

And writing out over these long miles,

you're waving to me a sign: to be alive.