Sketch Well

The thing about Long Day’s Journey

Is that it’s the day that’s long.

There’s no adjective for the night.

You wriggle your rump into place,

Ready with your anticipation

For something nothing for dreading.

There’s still more day, more journeying

Into a night that will only play days

Somewhere where you aren’t there

To notice anything and complain.

For now, you have no shows to watch,

No new books to make you car-sick,

Only a sketchbook and a seven-hour drive

Or more with your crumbling-down father,

Driving long day’s journey into night.