beside me,
full of children and dogs,
a mom and dad,
luggage tied to the roof.
there's a Christmas wreathe
wired to the hood.
the rosy cheeked children
wave at me.
i wave back.
i wonder where
they're going.
Pennsylvania, maybe,
Vermont,
or Boston,
to see the old folks,
to eat turkey
and pie.
to reminisce about
the old days and comment
on how big the children are.
i'm taking the next exit,
to work,
stopping for coffee at
7-11 and a package of
Little Debbie Cakes.
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