Tropezon


	El tropezón Out in the park across the street A little girl in a dress all white, Flower of some honeysuckle vine, Growing along the riotous alley, In the humid afternoon Stops the ancient vendor of Frutitas Toiling behind his two-wheeled cart To buy with her horde of moist gray coins An innocent ice cream. "¡Que no se te caiga!" he calls behind. Whereupon, remembering The Princess of Balance Holds it tightly at eye-level and picks her way Across an abyss of dirt and ants, On a tightrope of prudence, While gravity spies from below. Gravity, her old enemy, That envies each bright sip Of rainbow, all sweetness, All lightness, the wisdom of her brown legs As she negotiates the perilous ground. Take care, child, Gravity is everywhere and always And despises the buoyancy of such things As you and ice cream. Copyright 2000 by H. L. Rucks. All rights reserved.




				Zoom I LOVE BILLY spray-painted on the concrete underbelly of the remote overpass long-gone down the vanishing highway ghost sentiments like tomb inscriptions As a token I give you this black mist sprayed straight from my heart Copyright 2000 by H. L. Rucks. All rights reserved.



		Oil Patch The water tower shines like a minaret In the background of the tilting house With the Mustang on its rims in the yard. Weeds grow among the pyramids of pipe In the company field beside the solitary metal buildings Where industry once shrieked Time is Money And welding rods flamed through the night Like the torches of Liberty. In the pastures the humpbacked pumps are frozen In mid-stroke, like time pieces, The drilling rigs sit idle and toothless. There are no football games on Friday nights; They've shot out the bulbs of the stadium lamps. The drums and the brass and the stomping in the stands That once folks could hear nearly to Odessa Have vanished on the dry night winds. Home is no longer home, alas. The Visitors are not coming back. Copyright 2000 by H. L. Rucks. All rights reserved.