Sunday, March 29, 2020

The "S" Bend of Highway 117

Three reflective bumblebee barriers stand sentinel,
Never permitting the great wheeled beasts,

Tired Broncos and Jaguars,
Bisons, Bluebirds, Cougars and Mustangs,

To mingle with nature’s finest ditch
Lined with tentacular sunflowers

Like yellow-haired sirens
With a hundred jagged teeth, tasty when salted,

Luring Fords and Ferraris alike
With their seductive dances for Apollo

Sorrowful vessels burdened with landlovers
Adrift upon the open highway.

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