Sunrise, Pennsylvania Turnpike, 11/24/03
For hours cobwebs of spun-sugar
catch at my burrowing headlights.
My mind waters for light, images
beyond these two incandescent eyes
that probe the vacant yawn of night
which lies about everything.
Now the merest arc of cantaloupe
impeaches the darkness, peeks out
from whipped cream, a coquette,
sly and luminous on blue china.
All at once my mouth forms an O:
I have to stop and help myself.