Shots of hot pink and vertical stands of lime reeds
Cattails, ranch houses, poplars and irises
Wisconsin farms sprinkled with new crops
Cocoa tassled deer grass blown back by this passing train
Errant loosestrife and duckweed thicken the trackside marshes
Dust, bobcats and helmeted workers
Shiny taut horses with black brooms sweeping flies
Copper roofs, snags, backs of warehouses tumble by
sunlit shadows, parallel roads,
Leaving it, faster and faster. Saturating greens, all sorts
Where is the red of fall in this much longed for spring?
Cyclone fencing, power poles forewarn the city.
A girl stands astride a bike at the corner
of Thistle and Hazel, her hair is black and her backlit pink cruiser
A wash of blues behind her sharp silhouette.
Brick, a sure sign of urban living, ahead, around the curve.
Rough necks, crayfish supplies, lottery and checks cashed.
Outlet stores and red striped cement trucks.
Victorian clatter traps with ugly paint.
Orange churches draped with heavenly blue plastic tarps
Flat roofed condominiums
A U-Haul idles restlessly at an intersection in Illinois.
Union station, four train pews and light from another era.
A cold beer in a hot bar.
E. Bouman, May, 2012
marked with spidery mesquite
chiseled rose quartz, blotched purple, brown
Translucent landscape covered with dust
and stones, ropes and bones
These digital landscapes levitate and tremble
inches above the next piecrust.