The freeway twists
Its fat tendril curling in a chokingly
Dizzy loop that clings
Like physic’s gravity
Centripetal motor breath floating over
The concrete guardrails.
The cloud factory puffs white billows
Like sheets into the wind
Just west of here
And great gray bursts of steam
Belch softly over the lanes.
The giant’s chairs stand red
Against the morning sky
Orange silhouettes that sever every sunbeam.
And the lumber building
Rests squat and singular
Within the cement loop that hugs the sound of early cars.
The low flat roof a plane of outstanding stillness
And dingy white
Between deep gray
And swimming arms.
Two lawn chairs thrust against the steel and sky
Incongruous on the lumber building roof
Casting spindly shadows through the prowl of motors.
And the sunrise glint on two glass bottles
Empty but for diaphanous sparkles
Which scuttle over the roof with the motion of the sun.
Created: Mar 01, 2010Document Media