120VAC
The day is hot, no window shade can hold it back.
I finger a warm bourbon bottle filtering
the noonday sun like red tealeaves.
It sloshes spidery, no water this,
no stiff upper lip surface tension.
Tilting in my hand, a little brown sunset,
like old timey pittsburgh's august
when a steel god said push and the ore
mountains shoved, and the Ohio muscled
barges up her oily back.
It's noon and hot like a whole city in my belly.
2 comments:
Loved the imagery in this.
this line sounds so awkward, though:
"like old timey pittsburgh's august"
old timey? for real?
That's the point though...that the view of America's industrialization in the beginning of the 20th century is often over-romanticized...
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