Arbuckle Wilderness
by Smokey Farris

It’s time to buy a truck.
Awaken to a new vehicle.
It’s likened to a wide awake
Nightmare when edgy
And arbuckled into laundering
Your blood from bottomless socks.

The wagon overturned and
A battery of heads rolled down
The eternal cliffs of Ozarks.
Shade given so commonly by
the mirror like moon.
Is taken away
as the Nuclear warheads,
As illustrated on dayglow
Concert posters.

Unfurled curls of southern smoke,
Draft upwards and
Obscure the clansmen.
Who above the dreamlike
Stage of our fair city,
Hurl burning cans of oil,
And delivering telegrams
Of pure hate.

Bottles of booze are lowered
Down the slopes
Into arcades and onto welcome mats.
Memories of almost buying Cocktail
At blockbuster suddenly outweigh
a distant heiress bearing her breasts.

My past life comes in handy sometimes.
I get washed out in a hailstorm.
Get punctured a hundred and fifty times.
Get buried before the light goes out
And count pea harvests
And watch owls
Swoop low upon the earth.
Until time becomes meaningless,
Existence futile
Until I combust into
Precious gold dust,
And sweep my self up
Into a neat little pile of protons.

Smokey Farris runs an engraving shop in Walla Walla, WA. http://farrisengraving.com/