double interstate ave octet

(1/19/17)

red & gold Sun Wukong banners, faded, creased

at year’s end, edge the restaurant patio—

fence boards splashed white, with screws protruding; inside,

brittle bamboo untended in a barrel—

green wine bottle at the curb where yesterday’s

rain washed exhausted snow to the street—weeping

spruce on a lawn next to the tiki bar, its

sphere lights suspended in nets, not yet glowing

◦

blue plastic chairs stacked six high under the faux

grass awning—bike rack in the form of Easter

Island mo’ai, melon orange to double

the curb fire hydrant rising from its moss

circle—down the street a single audacious

camellia blossom unfolds magenta—

the motel’s big palm tree sign ascends unlit

against unsettled sky as the train passes

Jack Hayes

© 2017