Passages #39
Summits poke
puffy clouds
hiding hamlets
from us skiers.
Where’s Fleischmanns?
Highmount’s gone.
We’re all alone here
at Belleayre.
and lovin’ it!
Deer Run all to
myself
telemarking
to heart beats
pounding
like a giant hammer.
Summits yoke
homeless clouds
shutting hamlets
for us drifters.
I heard there was work
at the Belleayre Resort
but some goon
turned me away
at Pine Hill.
“No project here.
Go home.
And don’t even think
of camping out
at Belleayre Beach.”
Summits joke
with fluffy clouds
gladdening hamlets
for us hikers.
Fog is no issue
for us 3500 Clubbers.
We like to snowshoe
with map and compass
to trail-less peaks
and pop up
above the clouds.
We’re all set–
red Osprey packs,
Gore-Tex gloves,
blue gaiters
GPS in hand.
We are psyched to summit Bearpen
for our winter patch.
Summits choke
migrating clouds
harassing hamlets
for us workers.
“Seven hundred jobs”
promised for this Resort.
I come here
from Matamoros
my compañero
from Nuevo Laredo
(escape gangs)
to build the 300 rooms in the new hotel and condos
and golf course and ski lodge and restaurants
and spa
and new lift towers–
construction
landscaping
dry-wall–no importa
how you say guarura?
Big Boss Man says, ” Move on.
Ilegales, no.”
Summits toke
laid-back clouds
mellowing hamlets
for us riders.
Hey!
Kaitlin, Jo-Jo–
let’s ride the woods.
I’ll film our sweet turns
and drop-downs.
Stylin’ in blue and yellow pants
checkered jackets
hips hugging the pitch
Go-Pro helmet.
I’m lifting the rope.
She’s sparking up.
We’re making
our own cloud
here in the trippy glades.
Summits are woke–
political clouds
fooling hamlets
and us voters.
Yeah, we got
Kavanagh,
but still no jobs.
What Infrastructure?
Who cares about the Wall
here in Ulster County?
Gitter died,
and the Resort’s investors
just pocketed their tax cuts
and ran.
I hear
illegals
are slippin’ in
from Québec.
I’m wide awake
and I’m mad as hell.
Summits broke
Trumpian clouds
freeing hamlets
from bad leaders.
So, I’m a lift attendant.
At least I’m warm
bundled up in my blue and white
Giants hoodie,
Carhartt pants
CAT work boots.
This summit cabin
is better than
blowing snow outside all night long.
My healthcare
still covers
my diabetes.
Kicked out the dipshits
who would take that
away.
Pre-existing conditions, my ass!
I pre-existed them politicians
back to where they came from.
Next up,
#45.
Time for
a Pennsylvania Avenue
Shutdown!
Summits spoke–
Muellerian clouds
warning hamlets
and us readers.
I’m going to bed;
groomed Deer Run
all night.
Dave Matthews band
my company in the PistenBully.
(He’s helping out in Charlottesville.
rehabbing public housing with his own money.)
Come on,
release the report.
I don’t need BuzzFeed,
just the indictments
and more convictions.
Watch out
for a convenient war in Iran
when the Special Counsel’s
done.
He’ll be done.
We’ll be done.
Well done. Your sarcasm and scorn for the travesty of this Trumpian government comes through loud and clear. I like the contrast you paint, both in word and photos, between the ski resort owners and patrons and the behind the scenes struggle of the workers trying to survive under an inhumane regime. I find it hard to write about Trump and his fellow autocrats with any subtlety or poetic lyricism. I think it’s because their behaviors and values are so outrageous and destructive.