Two dollar bills on a
three hour trip, muddy shoes
and empty lighters, that
shake and refuse to roll.

Then I
popped like a roman candle
that sparkled and
sagged like the branches
of some sad
electric willow tree.

And when you drove me by them,
the power lines were like a path
of a skipped rock. But the sky
was too bright, and the grass
too green, and the trees too
dismantled to make out;

and the shadows were just
a reflecting puzzle with every
piece the same.