People on summer vacation
shoot the moon at the Amtrak;
Oh, to be rafting down the Colorado.
Of course, their moons are white.
One drunk kayak-er motions
to his girlfriend to join him.
She declines and blushes as she
moves into the brush to hide
from the eyes of the rail passengers.
Fly fisherman cringe as the train’s
horn responds to the engineer’s tug,
to the waves, and to the intersections.
Fleeting images from the trip back
East. Odd as it is, no one says,
“On the trip back West.”
Where the sun and the moon
set, and where one’s shorts
are kept up around one’s waist.