66

 

 

           66

Along Route 66, connected by

a stretch of seven miles, two towns align;

one bears his family name, the other mine.

A geographic fluke? Perhaps. But I,

far-flung, uprooted, off the track, embrace

this synchronicity, this table scrap

of happenstance – two dots upon a map

forever linked in existential space.

 

The decommissioned highway’s gone to hell;

and so before it all but disappears,

a faded US atlas, dog-eared to

the State of Oklahoma, guides me through

divergent latitudes and hemispheres

and universes spinning parallel.