Hope, New Jersey
by Christiana Martin
We are dressed in black,
en route to commemorate
a premature sunset.
The woods are filled with
orange, red, and yellow leaves;
a fiery shroud enveloping the trees.
I crane my neck, trying to find a sign.
Anything to show us where to drive
Where do you go
when the candle gets snuffed
We cross the bridge into New Jersey.
I have never been to New Jersey before.
We pass a toy shop facing the town square—
we’ve driven into a Hallmark movie.
“Where are we?” I ask you;
you have the GPS.
I still search for a sign.
We turn right past
a post office.
There it is, in big blue letters:
HOPE, NEW JERSEY.
We are not there yet,
but still we drive on.