Sky of course
below that
a frayed garden glove
Dentyne wrapper
Bud Light can, pristine
Red Bull, crushed
Pennysaver delivery box
decapped by
a rogue snowplow
Used cap gun circles
Ordinary blue list
But the road wants
to make a poem
Road says Here, let me—
Beneath a mailbox
discarded magazine
still in plastic so
the cover shows
through winter grime and damp
blue title, the words cloudy
but legible—
Happiness Digest
Puff Of Smoke Poems 