GARMENTS OF THE PAST
One day I had an idea. And
the the next day it was gone.
What lingers? It can't really
be a memory, can it, of
something that never existed
in the first place? My eyes
tried to focus on an answer.
Is that something eyes do?
-
I wallow in the past like
porkers do in mud. Never
wanting to leave. Heck, I
want to live forever, but in
the things that used to be.
Not this at all.
-
The railroad magnate still
thinks he's a king. That
Vanderbilt guy; I'll show
him a thing. Or two. How
fast time flies when every
town's on a different clock.
How there's nowhere for
people to freshen or pee
at that whistle-stop.
-
What is all this? And my God
how things have to change.
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