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A Poem for Wendy

My life
on the road.
A bus, a train
A red Volvo wagon
110 miles one way
220 miles another
Connecticut flying by
Can Connecticut be cut by a half
Hartford all the way to Stamford
or entirely plucked,
Moved farther north,
Made the Siberia
Of the Americas,
Or to the far south—Con-Tierra-cut Del Fuego
And forget about Newton to Sturbridge, MA
And Westchester County to the Bronx.
Then I could come see you every night
Sharing our nights in Brooklyn,
Our nights near the Brooklyn Bridge,
Our Nights on the Promenade.


  1. Uranus on

    Sounds like a rip off of James Taylor’s “Sweet Baby James.”

  2. Ahna Brandvik on

    Hi Robert
    I loved the poem. Isn’t it wonderful how we can paint pictures using only words!

  3. Bette Jean Krieger on

    Hello Robert,
    I enjoyed reading your poem! I felt the pain… I hope you and your muse are well. Hi to all the Shreefter family!
    Bette Jean

  4. May Chau on

    Yes, I have driven through and had the same thoughts. Imagine being on the cheap bus from Chinatown with the smell of the communal bathroom. This makes the stretch even longer.

  5. Patsy Hamel on

    Hi Robert!
    Congratulations! I just drove through Con-Tierra-cut Del Fuego this morning and I agree that it is the worst stretch of the northeast corridor! Well said.

  6. Anne Pluto on

    Very lovely Robert. I know this ride so well and miss driving it so much.
    Happy holidays to you and Wendy!

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