Tasting reality as it finds me hiding behind venetian blinds
in the darkened night.
Not wanting to be found, so I can continue my rendezvous with
fate.
Following lines down concrete highways, leading me into fjords
of inexperience where I must learn the language of the road to
travel down it.
Memories carrying me part way as I look up the exact routes
from memory.
Traveling roads in the family car, Dad driving and bringing
us to Gettysburg and other civil war grounds of history.
Teaching us so we would always remember - and I do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem