Hollywood Wax Potatoes

The quickness of the landscape like a rolling set
Was blooming like a flower in a déjà vu cup
In the holder of a cruiser with the sirens blaring
The autumn rolled back though the wheels were stuck.
He tried to stare in the eyes of the judges of the halls
Fastening his visage those tears were swallowed
By pressing his sadness into small glass beads
That jingled an "om" in his skull so hollow.
The moon was fate, but coincidence eclipsed
And the walls of concrete were shivering shins.
He was a goose bump stepping softly among their craters
Then into the fresh repeating canvas his thought receded again
The autumn forgot him when his jeans wept
With the smell of freshly cut grass
And the physicists jealously looked through a lens
At a rolling landscape of laser printed canvas.