April 14, 2007

gas sniffing

the whole continent
bagged and burning
nostrils flared in danger

out back, exhaust pipe
lit by a low orange sun,
the boys lean on their pick-ups
and talk about girls

jobs across the mountains,
across those creatures made
numerical by distance, elevation,
the logistics of pipeline placement

the motorhand maintains the mud
pumps and seizes
the moment to smoke

for miles the plume
turns eyes: a show, a residue
an imprint dug up later
to tell us where we’ve been

1 comment:

hardyf said...

i only sniffed gas on purpose twice. for a good, quick dream it is an epic headache. however, the day-to-day molecular plume of the atmos, all just makes my mind sleepy i find. yet somehow, at the tank it smells kinda good.