The American Dream and Edward Hopper (part 1)

the western motel

is reached -
she drove down in the buick
through the dark blue mountains
and the pale blue sky
of her dreams
to the motel with the pink-covered
mahogany bed
the western motel
delux in green
and there she waits
impatient in reception
in the dark red chair
by the panorama window
ready to play the haughty blond
when he approaches
late as usual


the wise tramp

stands alone -
naked in the sunlit strip
by the motel bed
her cigarette unlit
her black high-heels
last night kicked-off
are under the bed
she stands
in sunlight's bare caress


office at night

they work -
or appear to work
she and him
secretary and grey-suited boss
working late again
as usual
he often signs his letters last thing
confidentially yours
under the desk lamp's light
and lipsticked elegant
in her blue dress contours
she files his copies away
in the steel green filing cabinets
figures in space
ceiling lit
window lit
working late
to catch the last post
all firmly sealed
on the blue blotter
on the mahogany desk

high noon

is hot -
the white clapboard house
with its red chimney
and grey shingle roof
casts its deep triangular shadows
and she stands
in the open doorway
with her blue housecoat open
fallen casually open
and she looks over
the dead grass
perhaps sees the horizontal shafts
of the sky
cerulean and mackereled
and perhaps decides
it's going to be
another sloppy hot day


dawn in penn

on the concrete platform -
the trunk cart
and on the tracks
the rusty locomotive
stands and waits
beneath the blue and purple clouds