Poetic Journal Year 166 B.E.

166.49 Sioux Falls*

Sioux Falls

So tired this spring.
Tired of renewal,
stealth growth,
the color green.
Don't feel refreshed
by the return of southern sunlight
by the warmth of moistened breath
that caresses these large square houses
tree-tressed,
where breezes reach geese perched on pond-nests.
Past the cemetery of eleven pines
the bus tires whine and the yellow-green sheen
blushing the bushes
tries to hide this ugly sprawl of human boredom:
Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
How could I ever know ya
waiting for hours in your isolated depot
too tired to pray for the bus to leave.

© 2009 Kåre Enga [166.49] 2009-05-05

Note: based on images coming into Sioux Falls. The suburbs could be any city, any place ... absolutely no character ... zilch. The depot was nice enough but nowhere. I'm sure there is a lot to be said for the town more than bland and boring. But someone else will have to say it.