Over coffee he says
how sometimes on his own
he unloads those 2,000 pounds
of frozen chickens
he drove across four states.
He demonstrates his muscles,
he bares his teeth.
She picks up the bill,
saying, uh huh, uh huh, sweetly, uh huh, uh huh.
She is not so much settling as sleeping
her New Jersey sleep
through the windshield not seeing
her beautiful and sad, overweight New Jersey.
Always autumn it seems, too gray for real seeing,
leaves catching on wipers,
and the car
unwashed
since when.