Poetry of Issue #7        Page 17

Moot Wager

I dreamed a radio stretched up
from the ridge above my maternal
grandparents’ house, complete

with raw and tiki bars
in its mall-like base beyond
the ticketing booth

but in the bright next day
Google Mapped the spot
to find only coal-strippings

then thick leaves leading
to a power line on the far
downward sloped, just a suburban

township reached,

yet pondered if kitsch were the better
choice for the summit of the rise,

re-created the image of faux-palm
and bamboo in waking review

determined the question:

            el sueño             -             the life

a bookie’s dream—a push.

  John Zedolik