badland blues

black-topped buttes and black top

this heat haze hovers and hums

backed up by the vibrato trio

of grasshopper, rattler and fly

see the shotgun stop sign sadness?

the asphalt surface is melting

old thermometer reads, 109 F

is it this hot on the moon?

old dusty boot done died in the ditch

and his poor mate gone ‘n disappeared

rusty railcars are abandoned too

red line spur’s long sidelined

the Acme mine ran out of coal

 

badland coulee yawns unexpectedly

from rolling praires— flat?

dry rivlets of once was water

run through iron ore deposits

but the cactus still have their juices

and flowers always bloom in May

mule deer and camouflaged brown grasses

hey, where do they drink?

maybe that thunderhead over Munson

might just drop a little rain

or not

the canyon is lunar-like but not dead

there is life among colored sand hoodoos

 

but black-topped buttes

can be

badland blues

About troysherdahl

A blue-collar bohemian with a penchant for fine words and dirty jeans.
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