Shakedown in Dust Town

next time i’ll try tender,
don’t brush away my
shy efforts,

shaky, i crack a can n’
flinch at sharpness
of its sound,

and if i ever was a train, i’m
too far beyond your stop
now, to wave down

just dusted leaves littering
the sparse evenings in
which we all drown
,

if you wish to cross paths
again, you’ll find my
prints leadin’ out
of town
.

image: http://www.freetinyimages.com/photos/view/859

image: https://jeffreyschweitzer.com/artwork/762940-Jeffrey-Schweitzer-The-Drifter-Crossing-Old-Man-Wilson-s-Farm-detail.html

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