Einstein walked the fields
beyond campus. Dew-
soaked tongues of loafers,
each step a hatched thought
hopping like robins
from puddle to puddle.

Once the two of you met.
You weren’t alone, parked
all night in that blue
beater. Waking
to him. In slow strides
coming closer.

So you forgot about
your date still asleep,
quashing brandy bottles
empty on the seat,
to watch him saunter
along a shrub-grown slope.

This aging augur
who wouldn’t gloat over
the way he found you
merely wished to say,
‘ Good morning, young sir.’

JEFFREY INGRAM is originally from Morrisville, Pennsylvania. He has taught writing and literature at colleges and universities in Vermont, Utah, and Colorado. He has recently had poems published in Wisconsin Review and The Drexel Online Journal. Currently, he teaches creative writing at Arcadia University. He lives in North Hills, Pennsylvania with his wife, Kim.