Another Rhetorical Device The drive only takes an hour. Every stoplight is a spontaneous green. From the cockpit the view is always yesterday, & is accompanied by soundtracks based on songs from a formica-counter 60's. The whole thing is stunning, as light enters the room on angles through peepholes. We are allowed to watch. The equation comes with cruise-control blinking from a footstoll where a red sock slobbers down one side of its chin. It seems drowsy & looks like us. But before we can invite it home, a squadron of duck decoys fly across the patch of green lawn. They ignore the warning signs & are never even punished. But the one that passes the picture window on a pulley is struck blue before reaching the airfield, which is really a forest bottled to appear beautiful. Still, it remains shocking how few of us are any good at trigonometry.
Maurice Oliver
If you've any comments on this poem, Maurice Oliver would be pleased to hear from you.