Bluebonnet Dreams

I would like to say that I was born among the
Cattails on a southern afternoon.
That I parade in lily-white lace under the
Luminesce glare of the harvest moon.

To not be drowned in the shadowy presence of
Monoliths with their steel and glass bones.
Enraptured by the torrent of technologic cancer
Exhaled in the windy city's moans.

I follow striped ribbons tailing the clouds
Past vacant motels and fields sewn with seeds.
To a house on a hill and a truck in the drive
With a kite in hand, living bluebonnet dreams.