"Camouflage" - J.P. Wares
what would camouflage look like
imagined by the cover of my old
Sugar album, imagined in large brush,
imagined by the lettering of fresh bread,
imagined by chrysanthemum,
imagined on a 1970 volkswagen
thinking of the sand colored doors
of buses only parking, of boat on top
of frosted georgia trees by rivers
of one sitting forever, no motor
back in woods away from this
kitchen, this comfortable bed, this job.
what would geometry do to curves,
what are hard angles in fog, ivy, the rust
of Georgia soil? what cut to mineral allows
a lean into corner on a hard run, soft
rubber beneath, and park the bus there,
21 windows, engine bay empty, wood floor
barely sanded, hewn from downed apple
that the ice called home
jetboil and rainwater at the ready
slam the door and sit in woods
so heavy
sleep overnight
sneak out after light
kiss girls and slight moves to twenties
then what is the path for me to
just sit and be, find some peace
time slows down and all I have to figure
is how to own the woods,
to maneuver the wheels
and leave them there for fifty years
until discovered,
a child wonders how it got there
and climbs in
to tug at the wheel
imagine gauges spark to life
rattle the shift lever
and dream of being big.
(Photo by Michelle Castleberry)
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