“The Divorce Capital
of the World”
My grandmother lived outside Reno
For forty nights in 1963
In a place named “Washoe”
As far as you could get from Brooklyn
With women who spent full days crying
And those who laughed and couldn’t stop
Women from Biloxi and South Bend and
Other places she had never been to
Or ever thought to go
On some ranch 2000 miles from home
I struggle to imagine what she did
Or what she thought of other than her boys
As once again she stepped into the night
To light another cigarette
To cut the foreign desert air
And look up at the moon
That great waning gibbous
Which shined down on the Truckee River
Which made it almost look like gold
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