Not at Home

On the back roads driving home after one at night with a full moon behind thick clouds he opened the windows of his car This was in another country in which he felt he didn’t live a mere half-mile away The night was painted on a dream and the lack of light bred unfamiliarity to provide a perfect sense of composition He couldn’t get over it Absences can be delicate although he thought this one could be more sure There was no note on the door Surely this was not his door

17 July 1973