moonbeam

sitting in the ratty gray front seat
suff'ring from the blazing heat
i propped my elbow on the rest
and watched the hills i love the best
no
not the ones on the other side of the glass.

the ones far far away
overlooking a humble bay
maybe one among them is much fatter
the others gaunt and skinny mounts
the tops don't crest but they are flatter
than the tone of the flatteur's flounts

is this cove real?
of course not.

but i think of it,
and not the starved dry grass
that is smashed on the mounds of dirt
by the persistent glares of the sun.
framed and surrounded by

                                                   barren telephone poles.

-Pamplemousse