Haibun

It's going to be another hot Amarillo day, but as I emerge from my car, the morning is still only warm with a gentle breeze blowing. I quickly cross the frontage road and head down the packed earth path. In the distance, I can see my destination, ten Cadillacs with hoods buried and tails sticking out of the ground. The last time I had seen Cadillac Ranch the cars were shiny and recognizable. Now, they are merely metal shells with their insides worn away, spray painted a gallery of colors. Hoping to add my touch to these masterpieces, I am disappointed to find the cars are surrounded by a pool of soggy clay mud, sure to adhere me to the ground as securely as the cars if I step in it. So, grabbing a purple spray can, I add my initial to the alternative works of art on the packed dirt, a small part of myself left behind until man and the elements wear it away, too. Cadillac garden front ends planted...tails aloft graffiti blossoms 6/29/18 for Mick Talbot's Haibun Poetry Contest