In a nest of curled, dried grass,
a rusted sign, vines climbing its back,
“Torch Café,” over “Enjoy Teem,”
a picture of the bottle half-visible above the grass.
The Teem Company supports
the advertisement of Torch Café.
Of course nothing’s supporting
anything, because the picture
in my head is restless, shifting,
always on its way already, not
to the Torch Café, which is rust.
But this picture has stopped
here at the side of the road,
to say “Enjoy” and something
else below that, obscured
by grass. It could be “Lemon,”
yes, I think so, the added acid
that “enjoy” seems to crave.
The lips that purse just as
paradise comes into view,
and won’t quite let it through.