every trip to midlothian
seems the same
but degraded slightly
the quarries announce
your imminent arrival
new buildings litter the highway
but once you get
to the heart of the little city
that is when
the cardiac disease
seems to be
slowly eating the town
by inches

the faces look lined
as if the knowledge
of the decay
has passed from
potholed roads
to infect the inhabitants.

maybe it is
the encroaching city
spreading tendrils
down the ever-widening
highways
bringing the sick rot
every big city develops
the cancer that comes
from too many souls
fading by increments.

or maybe
it is me
the weariness of living
a half-life
knowing that dreams
are carrots
you never quite reach
before being put down
after too many miles