First Date with a Dozer

D-8, you want me,
a played out copper mine that's eaten
half a mountain. Tongue my desert,
Drought-licker, and sway with me
to the Galaxy Accordions.
We'll sleep deep as tulip bulbs,
doze though the sky squeals
to the tune of the Everything Wheel,
my big butt in your ear,
a surprise position for sure.
But when we awake—
your diesel fume
in my external power meter—
we will be meant for each other.

Copyright © 2009 Victoria Boynton All rights reserved
from Burnside Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission