Open boxcars
men failed at chance
broken families
seasons to forget
miles separate the pain
turned up collars
faded jeans
empty pockets
soft eyes
yesterdays meal
from garbage cans
behind a diner
at a river town
bayous and bridges
sand and deserts
push on engines
running hot
grease and creosote
luck long gone
past cemeteries where
worn shoes belong
as iron wheels
create the motion
of leaving something
behind.
Roger Singer 