A Patron at Mitchell's Bar in Lambertville, NJ 2011 Somewhere East by Robin Stout A Buick carries Carl down a highway lined with porches. Past the dead farms and dead grass the cows only pretend to eat. Past the porches where sit men who complain of sleeves in August sit women who sit and complain of lead clouds, who watch for storms and for mail. This town grows old with heat, the wide planks of barns bleached to pale conversation. And somewhere east to Chicago, even the dogs have fled. © Robin Stout 2011