night poem, December 4, 2016



Who haunts these dark tracks that run through town?

When a train passes through they almost seem alive

Here is commerce and motion, something going somewhere

Men at desks in lighted offices, somewhere, far away

Marking progress, noting time, calling out for pizza

Late in the night.


But when the train is gone the tracks lay there

Cold and dark and empty

Glint of silver in the streetlight four blocks away

Lights red and green on spindly frames above and over

Quiet as the town is empty, like no one has been here

Since the music died, since Keith Hansford got run over

At the high bank just before the trestle in 1961

Some say he was drunk, some say that he jumped

After Sally Shaw told him it was over


Her mom told her she’d get over it

That life would go on and


Copyright 2016

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