"it just doesn't seem fair," nicole said
"they never come here.
we're always expected to go there."

we are the florida family
escaped indiana
by station wagon
smuggled away aunt deb
fancied herself a slave

underground railway
sun belt express
sandy dunes
shell-strewn
waited
under cover of darkness
carefully veiled lies

on verge of alabama
mussel shoals promised
tennessee be damned
cross it
we're saved

yeah, though we motored
through valleys
gassed in the shadows
wagon readied
nothing and no one
walked beside us
for the winding climb

accelerated too fast
past the caution church
shouldered off
for a moment
at gates of cemetery
lays in wait
round every mountain bend

last stop
on the underground
mountains level out
grandmother station
aycock cemetery line
bull skull crossroad
pies in her oven
always warm
perspiration beads her forehead
curlers tangle her hair

kitchen-work done
wanderers fed
sister, aunt, and i
tucked away
separate beds
crocheted quilts
cotton spreads
grandmother unwove
her silver threads
upon downy mountaintops
rest all our cares

we dream