Dale Champlin, Desert Woman 4, Collage, 2021
NEAR THE DELAWARE WATER GAP
The night we ran out of gas,
we roamed the forest.
We had driven from Williamsport to Manhattan
so my friend could play his music
for a dozen people who didn’t listen.
We found a convenience store,
ate honey buns on a bridge.
We walked back to the car
without finding a station.
This was several years ago—
a truck pulled off the highway,
we held up our thumbs.
The driver asked who we were,
the usual hows and whys.
We said nothing of the artless life,
our greatest fear.