The Lady in the Glove Box

 

When I wait for her to do a spot of shopping I wait in it.

When she’s getting ready to go out, I wait in it too, the sun

like a lamp., with my stash of magazines:

New Yorkers, National Geographics and that lady in the glove box,

Olive Kitteridge.

It is my loo, my library, my study,

My five-seated reading room,

My Chapman’s Homer.

My car really takes me places.

 

 

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