Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Out at the Sunset Grill

Out, not down like Don Henley’s
No workin’ gurlz going by
No basket people, mumbling
No auburn sky this day, gray
Not killin’ time, making it
On this edge of the human
Kansas ocean, now dry
Near the edge of the prairie
One hundred and forty seven streets west
This grass, the farms over yonder
We once wrote of as an ocean
No California beach here, this land
Simply land, dirt, the ocean if
Ya wanna find an analogy
Meanwhile have another beer…
That ocean those amber waves of grain
Your beach, the wave, all this structure
Unleased strip mall, parking lots
Empty, rows of hasty pudding plots
Apartments, compartments for supporters
People who do things, not shop keepers
More a verb for them, they keep shop
Work cutting hair, grass, exotic shrubs
Blown dry in summer, bakers, retail
Details without mention, expanses
Cars like golf carts from station to station
No one walks here, they sit
After work, on this western edge
To a theme park café, the Sunset Grill
Strange members at this back
Southern exposed corner of the maze
One third occupancy, sit where you want
Unincorporated privately owned, terrace
Atmosphere, flat screens a plenty
Japan smoulders, Libya too, March
Madness, Spring, rain, just enough
Wipers intermittent pace, windows
On the world and real ones too
Looking out across the paving
To a mass of clumped, gated community
Inside, some working but not getting
Or going by, baskets purchased at parties
Mumbles from the staff, more coffee?
Out at the Sunset Grill
Out at the Sunset Grill...

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