Once in Polson, my tired father
reels in frozen fish. Bones of
blue glaciers swab the
clear bowl's bottom. At Two
Medicine Lake, boys ride on
smoking capsules, laughing.
On Going-To-The-Sun(set) Road,
a creme-covered caboose wobbles
along compact granola bits.
Cotton balls melt and smother
the Polaroid you plastered
against the sky.
Mountains wedge against walls,
dislodging the gravel
that feeds this latex fire.