Vegas
Tree
heads tower on stalks,
Stick-like
trunks a-glitter
With glowing
hula hoops.
This caterpillar
of cars
Crawls
almost immobile,
Seeking
to eel its way
Deep into
the valley.
Horns pierce
the still air
With their
own language,
Monosyllabic
and flat.
All else
sits still beneath
The jellied
knowing stars,
Except
for these neon winks
Of the
showtime lights.
A morse
code for walkers
Taking a
nighttime stroll.
Copyright
Vickie Johnstone, June 19, 2020
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for commenting :)