Looking up at
Happy houses
Short Hills houses
Acres of backyard
Even their detritus
Handsome, ecologically correct
desirable
And at the bottom of their gardens
This tidy silvery stream, on schedule
I’m in that train from New York
Sometimes with you
And if with you
Always pressed close
One of us asleep, the other smiling
We must seem so sparkly
From above--and chartable as a river
Though we’re midpoint and only feel
Like we’re wending our way home
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