Anxious scratching of clay pots
on back seats folded down asks,
Where are we going?
Beside me the maidenhair rustles
in expectation. Cacti bump against
windows, breaking spines; juices chilled,
they stand alert. Several Swedish ivy apron
out, oblivious and shiny, they preen the whole
way there. With each knocking bump
along the road, donkeys’ tails weep in mute
regret for the table cleft by shadow left behind.
In April 1965 I took leave of my job as a newspaper reporter in Worcester, MA, and traveled alone aboard the R.M.S. Sylvania to Liverpool, England. I returned on the same liner in July 1965.
The Osher Map Library in Portland, ME, held an exhibition on the age of ocean liners and added my donated ephemera with commentary on the trip excerpted from the diary I kept of the ocean voyages to their on-line materials on the exhibition.
Have a look here.