giants 

i cracked the window
backseat of the blue
station wagon--

our car was 
always climbing 
another highway--
another rush of wind
through my shoulder-length 
brown hair--

i used to 
watch the landscape
unfurl like a pop-up
book before me--
page turn
page turn 
page turn--

a film reel spinning--
projected around me
in this 
great IMAX theater
a pinwheel-- 
shimmering 
in the vibrations
of the world out
a car window--

& on the mountain
ridges i would see
the towers where all
the powerlines
meet 
& i would 
think that they looked
like giants--
immense beasts of steal--
their skeletal frames
letting the air 
rush through them--

they danced--
jump ropes in hand--
great oaks & evergreens
brushing their knees
like tall tall grass
i used to run in when
i was too little 
to be scared of ticks--

i imagined them at
night
when there's no
more need for power-
lines that maybe these 
giants rushed off
over the crest of the 
peaks-- hand in hand--
singing songs 
only giants know 
in a voice made of  
metal & bird throat--

there they would tell
stories
of all that they had seen
that day--
a nest of chickadees--
a hiker's hat blow off
& drop into the creek--
a bike-rider 
with a green back pack
eating a banana on
a tree stump--
a little girl
gazing out the window
of a blue station wagon--

they would light a bond 
fire-- 
pluck the stars
from the sky 
like ripe raspberries--
scoop marshmallows
from the moon &
roast them golden brown
over the fire--

their shadows in
the light of the flames 
would take on a mind of 
their own-- skeletons
frolicking across
the shrugged shoulders
of the ridge--

in the blush of morning
the shadows would fade--
as all ghosts do--
back under the bellies
of the stones
in the creek--

the sun came with 
a thud-- a peach 
too heavy for the branch
& begrudgingly the
giants would slink
back to their
posts-- wires in
hand--

watching a blue 
station wagon pass
by