We took a long walk,

just me and Simone. We walked

across the country. When she got tired

I pulled her in a red wagon like

she was Princess Simone. We started

out in winter in Maine among frost giants

and granite, kept to byroads and pathways.

Each night we made a campfire, toasted

white bread and tunafish, gazed

into the flames. A crowd of gray ghostie cats

came and sat with us, disappeared

in the morning. We walked during the day

and rested at night, travelled through the Midwest,

into the bayous and the Plains, set our toes

afire at Galveston. In Taos I traded our wagon

for a pink stroller and Simone agreed

it made for a comfortable ride. I started

calling her Baby Simone till she asked

me to stop. The ghosts visited us

each night around the campfire

just for companionship I thought.

Simone and I looked up at the stars and felt

like explorers or astronauts.

Finally we arrived at the Pacific.

I was pretty footworn and Simone was getting

weary after many months on the road. She

leaped out of the stroller to play

at the water’s edge

in the California sun.

About Karen To and Fro

Everything you didn't want to know about me!
This entry was posted in poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply