My reason for traveling cross-country by car in 1996 was that I had 6 cases of wine that I just couldn’t bear to part with. Unfortunately, the only way to transport wine out of Virginia back then was to be a distributor. Nobody would take it, and it probably would have spoiled anyway. So…I decided to bring it with me in the car. As I approached the California border, I had a little fantasy about what I would say at the obligatory “fruit inspection,” and this outburst summed up the whole trip.<\/p>\n
Last poem in the collection, Road Noise<\/em>. \u201cJust fifty thousand grapes, I think! \u201cSave for wine, I\u2019d come by plane,
\n<\/p>\n
\nShe wants to know what fruits I\u2019ve packed.
\nI count the cases, look in back,
\nThink of mileage…fucking crack<\/strong>!<\/p>\n
\nThat sacrificed themselves for drink,
\nAnd ride with me so they don\u2019t spoil
\nInvalidating endless toil.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nWhich would\u2019ve probably kept me sane.
\nInstead, I slogged across the land,
\nThe god-damned wine, it\u2019s trip was grand!\u201d\n<\/p><\/div>\n