(This is a poem I can’t write too often. What it’s like here.)
Early Saturday morning Khanyi
had to be at work early at the bakery owned by
Ben from Burkina Faso Chrissy daughter
of motorcyclists drove by brick historic home
of one of the founding partners of Skadden Arps
past a motorcyclists convention at Blackthorne
German owned family resort
big trailer park packed with people eating breakfast down
145 past the Mike Quill Irish Cultural Center
Hasidic resort where no one ever plays frisbee
to See and Be Bakery (named for Chrissy and Ben)
across the street from Pirelli Tires,
on the way to a town that is spelled just like
the capital of Egypt, but pronounced, for reasons
no one can say, like Kay Row.