don't stay, go home

some towns are ugly.
smoke
pouring out of stacks.

a grey fringe of clouds
hiding
a puddled

yellow sun.

traffic and horns blaring.
words cursed

from rolled down windows.
the factories,
steel boxes

of lives fading away.
the percussion of drills and hammers
never ceasing.

you drive through the tunnel
and pause
when you arrive.

the greased roads,
the food
for the fat.

the ancient bones of those
grown old

rocking on peeling porches.

their blue eyes

steeled in yesterday's work.
even the churches

sagging with worried faith,
beg, don't stay. go home.