The airstream
At the end of
The friendship
Flexes its lucre
And beckons a lure
At the yard birds
Now woken
To their captivity
And desirous to fly
To Mount Rushmore
By way of the 1960s
For a song
And a pie.
It's for love, children,
The miracles promised
In the daily whispers
Of the heart's deals,
The open road a gift ribbon
That won't need to be returned.
But for every gleam
There's a shadow,
The left-behind twin
With nothing but the dream:
That wife, that family,
That yellow brick history,
Who cajoles in that
American Way
For the same
Vehicle,
Throwing in every
Kitchen sink
Tossed to the turnpike
Like blackmail
-- The bitters of guilt,
The salts of pathos --
To sour
The already closed deal,
Make it sweeter.
But there are rules
To even the most
Contentious
Commercial
Transactions:
The woman
Is all.
