Odessa

Odessa

On the Texas plains,

there is a place,

a simmering mirage rising over mesquite scrub trees,

a converging apex of wide linear road,

parallel rail track and measured telephone poles,

hypnotically seducing,

for dry thirsts and weary, glare slit eyes.

The city of his youth,

seems but a time-capsule,

of sheet metal scorched siding,

of pumping stations inherited,

of sixties decor in preserved earthen tones,

of littered pipeline relics rusting roadside.

Yet there is an undeniable fortitude,

a staking claim to independence,

a mojo pride,

unified with legendary high school football prowess,

reflected upon in coffee diner debates.

Current rosters, past chapters

float as echoed conversation,

ingested and passed on with slight of breeze,

down the Permian Basin.

He pulls over, snaps open a beer,

smirks in remembrance of glory days,

the sun setting magnificently as it always does,

home silhouetted against effervescent, radiant skies.

-Mark Trubisky