October 08, 2000


The cloying smells of oil and turpentine
rise from the drying deck
A dog barks from a passing truck
ears blown at angles,
like wings in the wind.
Lawn mowers drone …
gigantic bees
loose in a suburban jungle
this balmy Saturday.
A child laughs.
Ellen at the Service Station
cooks hamburgers,
the smell of onions
overpowers the deck’s oily reek
The DJ
says it’s eleven fifty-eight am.
as a car arrives.
Muffled voices,
A sweet familiar scent.
She kisses him.
The rhapsody

Posted by Midus at 07:31 AM