growing into

linkletters lately

its an old newspaper that no one reads no more

and theres a lot of hungry people still down by the industry places near the rustling cold water

but the worded paper is of no comfort- it brings no news of the day that relates to the sun rising and falling without a drop of hope directed in industry's shadow

people are gawking at the weeds coming up through the cracks, and massive piles of coal lay like wounded soldiers on battered concrete waiting treatment from the nurse practitioner ship docked nearby in bleakly abundant fashion, like a giant old lion-footed tub wastingly waiting in some country yard, weathering elements for no one, setting perfectly useful yet unused.

on a sunday a driver passes through the area and notices opposite this sight, there are tracks with rusting train cars lined up in silent waiting. nothing is pressing. but the rows and rows of track indicate that perhaps their work is not yet over.