The Grave

Our wandering shoes brought us to him,
lonely on his hillside.
We wanted the shortest way
to a snack at the gas station. 

It was college,
far from home—
six hours, driving
faster than my parents.
My navy brat girlfriend
grew up around the world,
Panama, Italy, Australia, and finally
West Virginia. 

Hillsideman was far from home,
an ocean and more away,
an ocean of time and the ancient Atlantic
divided him from Tipperary.

Yes, our wandering shoes brought us to him,
lonely on his hillside.
Gravestone tilted, as though drunk, to one side,
a broad face seeing all the world. 

We looked down the hill
to the graveyard there
,and wondered in silence
how hillsideman got left up here,
and why our wandering shoes brought us to him,
lonely on his hillside.