Inherit this: the Harvard Bridge.
Or half-grey Winslow’s
brackish ridge.

The rotaries along Route 2
look just like his aquarium.
You

must think too long too hard about
the grass in center field,
Mike Trout

and shadows
crossing pilgrim’s graves.
Wild auburn rust —
old Compson’s slaves —

rich men, antiquing ancient Rome
and Maine,
the place that they call home.

New England’s not quite England —
not quite new. Not new, no more.

& when Telemachus leaves Ithaca
stone lions roar.