Another Rhetorical Device

The drive only takes an hour.
Every stoplight is a spontaneous green.

From the cockpit the view is always
yesterday, & is accompanied by  soundtracks

based on songs from a formica-counter 60's.
The whole thing is stunning, as light enters

the room on angles through peepholes. We
are allowed to watch. The equation comes

with cruise-control blinking from a
footstoll where a red sock slobbers down

one side of its chin. It seems drowsy &
looks like us. But before we can invite it

home, a squadron of duck decoys fly across
the patch of green lawn. They ignore the

warning signs & are never even punished.
But the one that passes the picture window

on a pulley is struck blue before reaching the
airfield, which is really a forest bottled to

appear beautiful. Still, it remains shocking
how few of us are any good at trigonometry.

Maurice Oliver

If you've any comments on this poem, Maurice Oliver would be pleased to hear from you.