Wednesday, February 1, 2017

double interstate ave octet


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

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