POETRY STOP
RAINBOW MOTEL
They did it for a dollar earned,
Hidden hands painting it.
No two colors the same,
Like a miss mashed family.
They kept it alive
Though it never thrived.
The curious looked
From a freeway near.
It stood mostly empty
But to us, it was love.
The plant with all its blankness
Faced my life each work day.
Like some alien ship
Dropped to harvest earth.
A dull churning sound
Numbing to the senses, always there.
I stayed behind in this small plant town
When others left.
Content for a time
To earn mine and know the place.
But now, all I did was carry my lunch
Into this windowless place each day.
To work my shift
And know the other bots there.
Why we all said silently
Had we not left...
MAIN STREET
Hum of the City
Always there.
Still I found pause
A sight or corner
The grandeur of tall buildings
And shinny steel.
Taking my thoughts away.
I loved the city.
Maybe grandfather Frank.
A man of sales.
Depression years.
A city walk each day.
Trying to find work.
Often empty in return.
Maybe thats why.
I walk in the city each day.
Taking its wealth for granted
But sometimes remembering him...
A string of box cars
Messages from a City far.
Scrawed on the side
Flashes, colors, passion.
In language not heard here.
Low country calm and all.
We imagined the bright lights.
How Coltrane took them north.
They sat there.
Reminding us who we were and wern’t.
On a sidetrack of boxcars
From a City far.
Comments
Post a Comment