Monday, February 11, 2013

TO SACRAMENTO AND BACK

A Mexican woman gathering mustard greens in an almond grove.

The wasted bodies of coyotes littering the way, each a monument to indiscretion.

A vast, fruited plain- the earth subdued into neat, orderly rows.

The lights of a farm like streamers in a flooded field.

Homeless men quietly crossing paths with the industrious, each with coffee in hand.

Four-hundred sets of eyes on a bride and groom whose eyes were on each other.

Broken glass and bare feet on a dance floor.

Bleary-eyed men watching women and them pretending not to know.

Five-hundred crows gathered in a naked tree like a raucous, black foliage

Broad avenues deserted in the pre-dawn of a Sunday morning.

Waxy green hedges bordering sidewalks all spatter-dashed with pigeon droppings.

A Russian Orthodox church, green and white, behind a wrought iron fence with a golden onion on top.

I-pod deafened joggers nodding at each other in passing, but ignoring me because I walked.

Police cruisers on the side of the freeway like crocodiles on a river bank.

Rows of green hills, close-cropped by cattle, and criss-crossed by tractor trails.

2 comments:

john tate said...

Best thing I've read in months.

Josh Tate said...

Thanks, John!