Peaks Island, ME 0 4 1 0 8
www.jessicageorge.org

We are simply going.

Parker chatters excidedly

comforting to a dog in a cage.

I sleep

to the smell of movie popcorn and the sounds of winning slot machines.

Waking up to Cole, sick

Needing gingerale.

I’m usually the sick one.

Parker chatters know-it-all-knowingly.

While stopped at customs

I feign ignorance

Yes, I did pack the wine.

Only one bottle

traveling conspicuously with the Glenlivet

As fog shrouds the new land

Acadian radio

Fiddle music like Walter’s

Far away memories infiltrate our ideas of Here

Block Island soundtracks,

Central Vermont towns

French not Irish, A&W.

Parker chatters unknowingly

Devin explains the Bank-Loan crisis for him.

All deciding it best to get groceries once unloaded

Settled in.

They swabbed his wallet for narcotics!

No, the knife isn’t a switchblade.

Parker chatters unendingly.

I start to loose patience

The horizon simply stays away

We all try our best to move in the right directions

With a desire for an unquestioning silence to lead us.