I haven’t heard thunder
in weeks.  Your front lawn

crinkles underfoot and
everything green is turning

a shade of brown that reminds
me just how little I know

about real dust-bowl brown.
The license plate

of your Hummer H3 tells me
you’re waiting for the mud,

but that crisp yellow   
paintjob tells me something

completely different.  It is not
an off-road vehicle parked

in your driveway.  It’s a parade
for the neighbors.  It’s you

and your Trojan horsepower
stalling for time.  A golden

chariot you drive from
morning until night, full of

bravado and waiting, always
waiting, for the mud, secretly

thankful this desert soil
cannot muddy those sleek tires,

ruin that fine paintjob, or
track its dirt onto your linoleum.

- Andrew Rihn