In the course of rifling through old notebooks I came across this poem written ten years ago while driving to work at REI in Roseville, Minnesota, apparently with my focus on word selection instead of, um, looking for stop signs. I warn you, this is early work, and I reprint it with the twinge of anyone who re-reads their perhaps overly earnest collegiate scribblings. It made me smile nonetheless.


$74 Poem

by Jack Golightly



The trees are sleepily dropping their leaves

while the houses rest

and the cars dream in the driveways

I am watching the sun yawn

as I, the nocturne, harmonize with

its tired little sunbeams that

slouch into the cold gray morning

the people fight them

by turning off the alarm and

postponing life, happy to

be unconsious at 7:55 AM on a

cold Saturday morning


-except me,

and the man whose cold

dreariness matches the day as

he hands me a written reminder

from the Roseville Police

to not compose poetry while driving


(thus making this the most expensive

poem I have ever written)