Cinderella’s truckstop

The new potholder
crafted by my mother
falls on the raw chicken and must
be washed.

I am powerless
She is powerless to[o]
make me new

I am Cinderella in my ecstasy


Here’s a little light
by the side of a highway
(highway to hell? to heaven)
By the side of a highway to heaven
flicker and sizzle and sigh —
not fizzle, not die, not fade, not fray —
One little candle in the golden dark
of ten million flames, one quantum
of glow. Light a way.


On your measured headlong roadtrip I am a small place,
a truckstop — stop and enjoy my simple food, my food
without pretence, without foreign influences, with
ordinary tomato sauce and some of those eggs and
potatoes and cabbages, and the winter apples you’ve
for so long.
(Dine in or take away)

(Want some of this?)

Take me home take me home down your highway
In your enormous truck, take me home
Take me away, away, take me, fly
In your thundering plane make me high

(Want some?)

When I need to go, where are you?
When I need to know, how are you?
I don’t want to wait but you make me
For every new place that you take me

(Take some)
(Take away)

Cinderella burns it. Cinderella goes.
Cinderella takes it. Burnt.