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man in red shorts with dog and satellite dish, viewed from train


crouched in the dirt
beside a fence post
that has weathered to a shine,
he scratches scruffy ears;
two windows throw light on the porch:
the flash and glow
of the idiot box

outside your world is painted gray:
your ramshackle house
your sagebrush lawn
your cutlass up on blocks

but all those channels
from every other where
can't keep you in your chair
when the california zephyr
rolls through your back yard
into the nightly show of the western sky

About the Poet: judy b. has worked in print and broadcast media, is a jazz vocalist, and lives in the Fillmore.