||could you start anywhere, on anything?
a fly in grass by railroad tracks.
on a full stomach, there's time for other matters--
immortality, for instance, a piece of cardboard,
the face you draw. your 7th beer, the sun promises a visit
from a friend but that won't happen--smallpox got them all,
leaving canned food in the store, free booze till it's gone.
railroad, cardboard, the laughter of those who came before,
killed by blankets and steel scourge. night comes up, another
day down, the face is forgotten, lost in weeds, drowned. if
the whistle blew, would you know what to do? but no train is
coming, the tracks are inviting, lie down, lie down...