A Small Point

We're driving along fourteen lanes of
highway, in the dark, the flanks of
cars flaring past, the highway lit
like things in an oven, a moving oven.
We're driving back from Eden Mills,
having read from the book. At one
point, during my reading, I flung
my jacket into the grass. I'm unaware
of this. I'm hot and I'm dumping
heat. I'm wearing the
trucker's cap I picked up in
Carbonear, the one that has an
ad for J&L Convenience, in Small Point.
I want to wear that hat across
Canada, just so I can have the words
Small Point across my forehead.
In case anyone thinks I might make
a big point.