Dream through a dirty window

Through hickory and fading sun,
rolling thunder always moves
faster than the spread of interstate

As plain as the nose I can’t quite see
on my face, I saw
God’s eye in a bunny cloud
lying in wait
for the cross-eyed man
to leave the Allentown diner
(where hopes were slim
and booths sticky)

A waitress poured more coffee
and the sky looked like
an upside-down jello mold-
the kind I don’t like
with extraneous bits of fruit
stuck in limbo

Tip calculations and gorged sighs
speak to the balance of
living a dream through a dirty window