by Jason Braun
The Grand Canyons and cascades,
seen from a car’s backseat window
my feet were sticking out of until
mom noticed again, they were nothing
with out perspective. Like burning
ants, or crushing bodies between
pointer finger and thumb, this is how
a world view is build at sixty miles
per hour. Then the buffets and all
of us eating to get our moneys worth.
The gift shops must have been sinister.
An unknown top down franchise,
otherwise why all the fools gold,
rock candy, and the “I survived—”
T-shirts that won’t last more
than three good washes. Even
the cameras were disposable.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment