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Cortez to Cheyenne

We drove through the fog

over the mountain pass.

Frightening.

But I knew peace,

knowing You’re with me.

Let in-laws know we made it.

Ate at the Olive Garden.

When the waiter brought my salad,

Lori said she’d take the black olives.

I said, “Don’t take all my black olives.”

When the waiter returned,

he brought Lori a dish of black olives.

I said, “You’re thinking, now girls don’t fight.”

He said, “I thought I’d prevent

It from happening.”

We laughed.

We filled up on salad and hors d’oeuvres.

We scooped up my eggplant parmesan

and her shrimp pasta,

put them in tacky Styrofoam take-out boxes,

and listened to thumping noises

all night in a cheap hotel,

imagining ghosts next door.