Only blind romantic love cold have driven me
To drive me '63 LeSabre all day and night
And finally half off the road into a ditch
Only a good corncob's throw from where you slept.
Our love was still new and as full
As the lush green mountains which hemmed us in
Minimizing all else with their sense of totality.
While you worked, inspecting the diets of the local poor,
I wandered, waiting for your returns:
Down rocky creek, up hilly fields, through ramshackle barns,
Letting my love for you feed on itself;
To be stronger and more impatient at night when
The crickets and bullfrogs would be our only accompaniment.
On Sunday we drove into Brasstown -
Bats and baseball rattling in the big Buick trunk -
Futilely looking for a public TV to watch the All-Star game on.
You felt bad but it wasn't your fault,
Even though our demise can be dated to that single disappointment.
The Mantle-Mays Controversy Solved
The Day Satchel Paige and the Pittsburgh Crawfords Came to Hertford, N.C.
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