We've driven through Pennsylvania,
New Jersey, New York and finally
Massachusetts in the pouring rain
to get to Rhode Island for dinner.
We walk in right at the cranberry
sauce hits the plates.
The wine is poured,
the turkey dished out.
Pilgrim hats sit on the boys
and white hats on the girls,
another funny whim of Aunt Laura's.
I, the eight-year-old Miles Standish,
stand with Samoset, looking down
before the overflowing cornucopia.
I wanted to be an Indian this year,
but, no, little Teddy got his way again.
It probably happened before I was born,
so I won't worry about it.