ever since the
drive to alvord
there has been
nothing but trains
speeding through
the tracks in
my hollow skull
the arms come down
red lights flashing
as i sit watching
the graffiti covered
cars rumble past
i could have been
a decent hobo
learn the secret
language scratched
into alley bricks
warnings of dogs
or places willing
to help a stranger
stealing pies
as they cooled
on windowsills
or winking at the
pretty ladies
ended up somewhere
in the vast fields
of kansas or maybe
in small town missouri
working menial jobs
until that
lonesome whistle
howled once more
and i was rocked
gently to sleep
beneath a blanket
of twinkling stars
another life perhaps
one day reincarnated
as a space hobo
drifting my way
across the vast emptiness
wherever i lay
my weary head is home