Sunrise tree


In the evenings he shows me
What be parlayed the hopes of
The young man into: Niagara pillows,
Shells from Waikiki, cocoanut faces

from Miami Beach, a pennant from Six Flags
And slides,
That slide me from my personal
Boredom into the national one.

The salable remnants of Georgian Colonial
Days, of Williamsburg, Greenfield Village,
Valley Forge, when people were as neat as
Bricks and knew their place.

Among his memories of a nation's memories,
All captured now on Kodachrome or in the
Gloss of National Geographics, be sighs,
And I can almost understand the life-span

Markers he uses in place of the bloodless
Chronology that years and hours make,
As imagination drains away and
Memories crowd in to fill the void.
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