Train, Truck, Tractor, Bus

The morning sky is stacked flatly on top of us, like vinyl
waiting its spin on the wheel. The bus stop still smells
like whoever peed in it, even in the upward-looking suburb,
where a tractor keeps ambitious corn in line on the backline
of the polished subdivisions & bulldozers declassify soil
& stubborn tree stumps. Trucks come & go payloaded
with couches & vacation photos & dishes in Bubble Wrap.
The observant, locomotive suburb where the conductor tugs
his train horn, waves back to the children stuck at the crossing
with soggy ice-cream cones & mostly attentive parents.