The Cove

the tva flooded this land

into lakefront property,

put pink marble right under.

memorial day finds me

waist deep in brown water

glutted by kids and fat parents

dragging on cigarettes.

where was this fresh

hell in the comedy?

a sun-inked woman,

smoke and aluminum

something in hand,

ghosts slowly by in a tube,

refined in her eyes-closed,

head-back statuesque trashiness.

god, is this the promise?

the woman opens a drunk eye.

oh, yes. these are my people.

even you, daddy-o,

with the cool, blue-righteous eyes.

look on me and love your better nature.