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.

A creek.

A bridge.

Anything to show us where to drive

next.

Where do you go

when the candle gets snuffed

out?

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.





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