Roadside Attraction
I race along the highway and the old wrecks meander past my windows
I long to stop and push the rotting door open, to hear the ancient rusted hinges creak
To hear the nesting birds flutter away from my intrusion
To explore each room wondering if the floorboards or the ceiling will give way
Perhaps finding some treasure, a forgotten old newspaper or photograph or long abandoned tool
To be sure there's almost certainly nothing, just dung and dust and emptiness and wood turned
Grey with age
But I'd stop if I had more than two weeks
And if the old houses and barns told no stories
I'd make up my own
And leave them in each building
To dissipate into eternity
Like all the other ghosts
Beyond the sun-baked door
ReplyDeleteDark buzzing: BEES! AAAAAHHH! BEES!! BEEEESSS!!!
Blistery red stings
-haiku of the country folk who don't bother to explore their own ruins