We pull off at the side of the highway in Somewhere, Maine looking to sing to the snails. There's a deep shoulder of gravel here, so we assume it to be a parking lot. The sky and the water and the ... [+]
I went to Philadelphia to see the house that I grew up in. It's being demolished to make room For one of those fancy grocery stores. There is no longer a park for the kids to play, But the library is still there. I'd go after school and read romance novels And trace the cover of vinyl records. The librarian was old and smelled like Jean Nate. I had my own room in our house, On the top floor of our three-story home. The walls were painted an awful shade of blue— My parents were expecting a boy that never came. They got me instead and I slept upstairs alone, The only daughter of a blu