by Anton Yakovlev
When he finally managed not to exit at Exit 9,
after twenty-some years of being too scared
to drive outside Tarrytown, and just kept driving,
the sun hadn’t distracted him with its classic libertine light
nor had a truck or cones blocked the exit ramp.
He kept driving, and nothing happened.
He parked in Valhalla and had Caffè Verona.
When years later he finally managed to tell this story
to a genius who was so in love with him
her ghost car glided beside him on any highway,
the genius lay down on his baby grand and said,
“How wonderful!” He brewed her Caffè Verona.
When two weeks later she left him,
the sun didn’t distract him with its classic libertine light.
He drove outside Tarrytown, and nothing happened.
He parked in Valhalla.