Skip to main content

Driving Through Small Wisconsin Towns

ISSUE:  Winter 1976

All this winter I was sleeping,
restless in another body, turning
some living secret of the unborn,
my features anyone’s or yours.

Now as my windows darken
with rich, brown furrows of the spring,
my small car rides the wind
going into you; Eden, Little Chute, Theresa,

lifting your names around my own,
taking muscles in my legs and arms
where I lean in, closer, deeper
following the yellow line

through Pickett, Omro, faster,
hello Kaukauna, a dark patch
I say goodbye to, goodbye Gillett.
I’m back, I’m yours, alive.


This question is for testing whether or not you are a human visitor and to prevent automated spam submissions.

Recommended Reading