these walls mark where I’ve been,
lampposts of knock-me-down bluenotes,
clotheslines of muted radios.
hearts turn and look away
from campfire ranches to decayed cities,
void of colors, values,
minus juices from vacant branches,
train to long train.
always yes to freedom!
yes to highways kicking out perimeters!
and yes to groundballs and linedrives and sultry poker cards
dealt to chainsmoking Louies,
unmasked by inside straights!
outside this town
the homeless gather,
discarded voices drenched by spirit and bittersweet stars,
cursed by hypocrite pirates
then later dumped and forgotten
in azurite malachite backyards.
but somewhere out there beyond the tracks,
these walls tell me where I’ve been.
back.
unpacked.
a train to long train.