Thursday, June 30, 2016

Just Under a Hundred Degrees



Just Under a Hundred Degrees

Gold-fire afternoon light....

You slow-drive,
dried blueberries 
instead of Copenhagen,
stretch an hour on a gravel road...
gape-grin dumb
across sagebrush
at not-so-distant basalt walls.

As if there ain't nothin'
you can't dream-up for real.

1 comment:

  1. Those last two lines seal the deal. Great poem, Red.

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