Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Drive-In Dog

Wander over the ungrassed acres where
Things are parked facing white square.
Picture beamed from low bunker house as
Food lines meander when dark reawakens.

So many good things to have to eat.
Sometimes get petted or spoken at kindly.
Not many mean men like other places,
Many walk sideways and laugh and fall.

Singing, crying emanate in turns,
Especially from the back row right side,
Where night light yellow bulb is dim.
Hedgerow shadow deepens night's void.

Sleep when sunrise yawns over tall pine trees,
Everyone gone, vast empty wasteland all tilts
To whitish bare square, pale in the glow of day,
Marked T.L. + B.M. bottom corner, red spray.

1 comment:

Dahl said...

Good ol' Days... I remember them too, and unless I miss my guess, I was thinking about B.M. the other day. Take care T.L.