directions to lucy's house

lost again, you
pull over to ask
directions from
a man sitting on
an orange crate
selling flowers
at the corner.
he's smoking a
cigarette and
cleaning out his
nails with a
pocketknife. you
roll your window
down and ask him
if he knows where
vine street is
and he says yes,
i do. he smiles
and pulls his hat
back. who you going
to see on vine street
he asks, and grins.
you ain't going
to see miss lucy
are you. how'd you
know that, i say.
cause i see those flowers
on the front seat
of your car
and you look like
the kind of guy
lucy has come over
to pay her a visit.
oh really, you say.
and just how often
are you giving
directions to lucy's
house. third one
this week, he says.
do you still want to
go. i don't know,
you tell him, is it
worth it? i couldn't
tell you that mister.
okay, okay, how do
i get there. well,
do you know where
the water tower is?
make a left there.
you can't miss it, she
spray painted her
name on it one
summer when she had
too much to drink.
she's the only house
at the end of that
dirt road. follow
the broken hearts,
he says and laughs.
she doesn't like roses
by the way, she's
more of a daffodil
kind of girl. three
dollars a bunch.
i can make change.