Rail-splitters don’t often get lost
in cyberspace
and when they stroke themselves,
it’s most often to the cadence
of old Chevy turn signals-
you know, the ones on dusty,
almost-forgotten intersections
near stations with the most heartache.
Heavy timber aside,
fatigue (from fresh air)
draws stalwart pickle-eaters
to diners with open-faced sandwiches
and lots and lots of gravy.
Coffee mistaken for counsel,
grumbles covering pride,
old men fighting for place.
No room for an ode
where a limerick may go,
words to such men
are akin to reading a backwards clock,
hoping to predict weather
by counting knee aches and cricket chirps.
They split hours, laughing at young love
keeping their coffee and gravy in place.
This is absolutely fabulous! It brings back images of family gatherings on Sunday evenings. Thank you for such a great journey back in time. You are wonderful.
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Awww thank you so much!!
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