Somewhere East by Robin Stout

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