POEM: Wake Up To Find Out

Wake Up To Find Out

In my late 40s I became
obsessed
with the Grateful Dead.
It happened just as everything
I counted on in my life died.
Again.
I took to the road
in a decades-old minivan,
no Tennessee to get back to, Jed.
It was freezing at night in Wilmington.
The winds blew a gale in San Diego.
I walked the road where James Dean died,
a little envious of his blaze.
In Monterrey, in Anza-Borrego,
in Key West, in Acadia,
in Falmouth, in Apalachicola,
I studied the road ahead for a sign.


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15 April 2024
Charlottesville VA
NaPoWriMo Day 15