from
Cape May
one winter night, when
i looked over
and she was praying.
her eyes closed,
her hands pressed together
around a set of white
rosary beads.
what are you doing?
i asked.
i'm praying, she said.
okay.
for what.
for two things.
two things?
i'm praying that we'll find
a fried chicken
stand,
and that they will have
a bathroom, i really have
to pee.
a mile later we were
sitting in a chicken joint
called the Red Rooster,
eating
legs and wings.
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