A Big Sigh

Driving the back roads home from Toledo —
the farmlands, the corn never before looking
so good, apples growing, grapes growing,

hops growing (that’s new), old gas stations,
a fifties’ era abandoned outdoor theater,
a restaurant that fits the image of a road-

house — he thinks about sitting in the back-
seat of his parents’ Dodge traveling the
back roads of Indiana and Michigan for a

Sunday afternoon drive following the buck-
seventy-five fried chicken dinner at the best
diner just over the border from Illinois into

Indiana. He says to his wife in a voice that
almost sounds like he is asking permission,
“I think I would like to have a couple glasses

of wine this evening. It was a long round trip
today.” He’s been cutting back on the booze
because it hurts his arthritis. His wife says,

“That sounds good.” As he sighs a big sigh,
he continues driving west toward the dunes,
pond, waterfall, Big Lake — home.

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