Bus Through Suburbia
There was something about that mountain--White, so unmoving; hills fell
Behind, green all rolling; billboards got
Smaller the cows they were grazing. I looked out a
Field a baby was floating.
Something about this sky--the city far
Behind; white on blue, I forget
My mind.
Red cars buzzing--all bees,
No gridlocking, some people off the bus--too slowly!
(Some yelling) neon signs waved by the fields they
Were standing. The mountain so high--granite
Cloud never moving.
Dogma die
My roving eye; I give
This up, hemoglobe
Sky.
A blue pickup truck she
Flipped us the birdie; people less urban: more
Rednecks not flirty. The city long-
Gone--I could feel it escaping. The mountain
A cloud, was an eye never moving.
Something about this sky--
Painting us into night.
Boundless blue light
On the hillsides.
© Alan Reade, 2011
Home