August Occurrences #27

Felino Soriano


The once diagnosed as depressed
truck driver
now possesses a disposition of happiness.
The once office liar,
pusher of pencils to expand colleagues’ egos,
now boards a red, highlighted diesel,
equipped with expansive front
window, a window with expansive
view of green, luscious fields, myriad of birds
beckoning and crossing; large mountains
resembling hands, raised like knuckles
far beyond hyperfocal distance—versus
the minute window of a pseudo office,
illuminating views of vomiting pop culture.
First trip carried him within a hand
of memorable landscape, and the former
office liar exhumed a yellow pencil,
broke its body into feeble fractions,
and tossed its existence into the asphalt’s
swallowing command.

Copyright 2006 by the Tipton Poetry Journal.

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