sunflower
fields
roll
over a kansas flatlander
leading
you past
the
last tree etching
distance
is a sepia
misleading
for
what's left of daylight
drooping
in the well of your eye
dust
settles
and
your eye adjusts
to
this new world order
same
as the old ones
false
promises and land speculators
where
the road looks back
sometimes
laughing
knowing
that there's more to it
than
two-lane mileposts
heaving
concrete
and
abandoned tractors
the
many shades of the iris
is
where the sunflowers bloom
---
e b bortz
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