From the Corner of My Eye

A heap of rocks, to the east of town.
Put together by a massive movement of continental plates.
Southern fingertips of the great Rocky Mountains. She is Sandia.
Sun rising in the east, bright rays are her crown.
And, as the sun sets, solar rays from the west set the mountainside on fire.
She glows red--and certainly resembles a "watermelon."
But not on this day. A thick layer of whipped cream clouds drips from her peaks.
She is sad and deep purple. Even the speckles of fresh snow cannot cheer her up.
Today they are grey and wet.

This town:
Tumbleweed caught under an oversized-SUV fender,
Crossing guards holding signs and escorting kids across the intersection,
On the radio, songs play in spanish.
Grafitti decorates the sides of every other building
Some of it is quite beautiful.
Every 5th car on the road has a dent,
Fender-benders happen every day.
Sun rising over the eastern mountains,
Which are dark and gloomy on cloudy days.
Clear skies invite the balloons up for a hug,
Passengers in the little basket risk life and limb
For an unequivocal view of the city.
A hot dog stand on the corner,
Reminds me of New York,
But, shouldn't this vendor be selling green and red chili,
Or maybe frito pies.
I'm not in Mississippi anymore.