The sun
A bullet hole
Burning through
The grey-white sky
Waiting on a train
At a crossing
Traffic standing still
Graffiti strewn as boxcar pass
Artful dodgers creating
On steel canvas'
Leaving their unsung scars
Smokey music fills my head
One of those moments
In my memory scrapbook
Thoughts of one who
Used to make me know
All is good with the world