Morning creeps in with
a ghostly glow
Dark corners are erased

The sun is slowly rising
on a sleepy city

Lights pop on in windows
and silhouettes can be seen

There is a lady pouring coffee
and a man lighting a cigarette

The sour smell of garbage
is in the air and a newspaper
is thrown on someone's
front lawn

Soon the sidewalks will
be teeming as a heard of
weary commuters make
their way to work

The old car sat
rusting under
some tall oak trees

The Chevrolet emblem
could still be seen
across the front

It had to be at least
50 years since
it was on the highway

Ghost riders appeared
on autumn nights
and took this baby for a spin

Children in the neighborhood
testified to that

A pretty lady with
her kerchief blowing
in the wind was often
the driver

She liked to push the
gas pedal to the floor
and race past the
other cars on the road

Sometimes a thin man
in a business suit
would get behind
the wheel and
off to his office
he would go

The Chevy must have
been brand new
back then and something
to see
Shiny hub caps
and white wall tires
Plus fins in the back
to add class and
help with aerodynamics

But now she sat
slowly rotting
only moving in
the imagination of
some 10 year olds

The smell was getting stronger as I walked.
It permeated the air.
Rancid.
Rotten.
Like feces, only worse!
Could it be a dead animal?
Garbage someone threw?
I tried to look for the cause of such an odor
but found none.
By the time I had reached my destination,
my nostrils were full of the stench.
It made my stomach turn.
determined to discover what it could be,
I sat on my steps and looked at the bottom
of my foot.
And there it was!
A squishy lump of dog ****
plastered to my shoe!

The train whistle let out its low moan
as it passed by the old house
It was a cargo freight carrying goods
across the land

The small boy inside sat still and
listened
He loved the sound and dreamed
about where the trains were going
How he wished he could be on
one of them

His life here was so dull
and he longed for some adventure
Oh, to ride the cars to San Francisco
where his uncle lived or someplace
like Alaska with its mountains covered
in snow

He could see himself helping to unload
cargo and then drinking hot coffee
with the workmen on the train
He had a birthday coming up
That would make him Ten years old
Big enough to do as he pleased
he thought
Then he would tell his Mother he
was going
That he was born to ride the rails