Valley of the Hummingbirds
About 10 miles removed from chaos and asphalt
we visited a ghost town.
It had decayed somewhat into a tourist trap.
Half the buildings were repurposed
or refurbished only a few looked like originals
but nobody cared enough to pan the gold from the sand.
My friend gobbled an oversized ice-cream cone
and became a child again for a few moments.
I bought a tie-dyed t shirt
that promoted something that the town no longer was.
Outside an antique shop, a middle-aged couple
sat like stones... without a smile between them.
They had the look of a salesman
who hadn't sold anything for some time
or maybe it was the look of irreplaceable loss.
I took a quick gander at their wares
thought about purchasing a vintage bird bath
with a greenish angel straddling its dusty lip...
but deemed it would seem to be an act of blatant charity.
There were hummingbird feeders everywhere
and the hummers obliged with a flashy show
dive bombing like Japanese zeros
high on fake sugar and Hirohito propaganda
fearless amidst the tourists and tourist trappers.
We left the ghost town
to the valley of the hummingbirds.
I hadn't seen a ghost but held out hope
that they'd appear in my off-center photos.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2024
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