Fall colors in the sun,
blood reds, gut purples
and those oranges from
the napalm mix it up,
a dazzle to delight the eyes,
the haze lifted and the bodies
cell-phoned back home
so everyone will know
you’re having a great time
and seeing lots of colors.
And while you wait for
the driver to take a leak
on a copy of some book
one of the locals left behind
before the air strike came in,
you text a message all about
your day and the places
the driver took you to yet
didn’t know the names of,
not that it matters cause
you’re kind of tuckered out
and a little sick from all
the bends and bumps the people
who live up here never fixed
as if they didn’t want you
to even come here and give
them all the business.
How stupid of them.
No wonder they’re all
so dull gray-looking while
you’re waiting for them to turn
for you to give you at least
a shot at making them colorful.
It’s been quite a tour,
even the driver has said he’s
never seen anything like it,
and wants you to feel how
deeply moved he is when
you round a curve and there
up ahead, the shot of a lifetime,
and you get it just right,
and the colors…why…
why they just dance like they
could come alive and suck you in.
So vivid. You’ll never forget.
Peter Buknatski
Montpelier, Vt.