Ode to Oil

Ahead of me a truck
with a load of logs
(18 butt ends facing my way
in variations of round
like a stack of moons)
kicks up swirls of wet leaves
in a gaggle of tornados that
twist and spin along behind
diesel tinged

A leafy dancing throng
on a cold, gray, October day,
through which I in my Ranger slice
thinking I’d better tank up on oil
before our furnace fails from
personal neglect as well as
crude national disgrace

………………………..
Jim Culleny; fall, 2007

………………………

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