America lives out West
in western Wisconsin --
"the Land of Trees Touching"
to the natives.
Power is plentiful here,
so our extension chords
are curled up on bumpers
decorating our purple buses.
The snow is a museum;
come inside where it is warm.
We will show you our animals,
our drinks, and our guitars.
Later on, someone's target
practice might tear up
the evening, but for now
our boots are freezing on the hood.
You can decide on your own
omens when the bus begins
to move again; tell us
what it tells you -- if it burns.
1 comment:
I like this one best.... if only for "the land of trees touching"...
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