migratory...

it was october and the weather had already turned. i was driving the new england, hmm, whatchamakallit, expressway, coastal. my hands buzzed. i grip the wheel too tightly. must have been in maine. it was getting dark. stopped for a bottle of juice. it started to snow. very lightly. the flakes melted, mostly, but a few, sooted and suet-like, gathered along the paving. journey came on the radio. "don't stop believing..." i was very cold. had on a cashmere sweater, color of cream, and very old pea coat. still cold. lots of apple trees, fruit-laden, along the course. passed through tiny towns, some no more than an inn and few sparse, stalwart houses. houses that looked like landed ships. shouldn't have worn all*stars. feet were cold. it was a mistake to wear those. shivering. heater on. cold remained. then it was very dark and time to stop driving and find a place to sleep. then an episode of classic star trek on the tube. landru (sp?). sleep.

october is coming. somehow this memory keeps repeating. streets in new brunswick. mt. allison. hot coffee, black. larches and traffic circles and oh canada! and oh, oh, oh, some cold night in a cosy place, a place unfamiliar.