Neon vines, crawl from rooftops
Up the railings of
And then down through yards,
Spliced to an array of ecstatic extension cords,
Silent patchwork snakes,
Constricting otherwise healthy trunks of adolescent trees.
The effervescent scent of florescence shines brighter than any
Populated primarily by palm trees.
And disillusioned spotlights.
Carpenter ants crawl round’ the wires,
Easily walking these electric tightropes,
Traversing these eventual nooses.
Avoiding the infinite depths of the canopy though ,
And all its transcendent residents.
Other indications of inaccessibility,
Are present, too.
Neon signs tacked to adjacent trees,
Burned out long ago,
(To the chagrin of no one but the sun)
Provide a steady transition from the remnants of holiday cheer,
Into a confusing portrait of antiquity.
Best viewed through cracked lenses.
Dilapidated lawn gnomes,
Whose ceramic faces
And faded red hats,
Now glow a pale green with an eager fungus.
Stand guard at the base of
The nervous trees now consumed with both bark-beetles and Ohms.
These shaking saplings,
These uncharacteristic Christmas trees,
Wrapped in color and buzzing with hornets,
Bent, by nature,
But shackled by skeletons.
These tangled giants
Will begin to burn silently,
To burn sweetly.
And the neighbors who watch from bedroom windows,
These neighbors who watch from across the street,
Who own boats but never sail them,
Wait for an opportunity,
A chance to catch the trees
In a state of incapacitation & leisure
& possibly to find
Pastel easter eggs that were hidden in the morning,
(Before pancakes and church)
With ambitions that they would never be found later in the evening.
(Even after a hot shower and headache)