Wild, Wild West (a poem)

Railroad oil and mildew perfume

waiting tables for the elderly and rude

Postcards, train parts and sycamore trees

nothing to do here but catch a disease

Charity shops open after sunday

calvary church giving sermons on the interstate 

blondies ready to drink for saint patty’s

stopping for lunch on the way home to Sally’s

Black cats eaten and dead on the highway

Fleet liquidation still rotting and empty 

forever, will you stay here with me? 

it’s too late to think that we could be free