Where You Headed?

No more farm
no jobs for an old farmer
all the farm roads
cropped up with fast food huts
after selling out
he got the wilt and the rot.

Near some white
bladed wind generators
bus broke down
on the way across Wyoming
delay at the station
dealt with with a magazine.

A delay in the beat
however in the forelorn heart
may be wicked luck
and who would send flowers?
maybe his son
if anybody could find him.

Where was Mom?
Bolted in her thirties back to Dallas
as spent as a paycheck
on hair and nails and a night out
but when things were bright
she did brighten up his status quo.

After that
days woke up beat and nights
couldn’t sleep
thousand acres cut to a hundred
little at a time
toll taken by arthritis.

There in Cheyenne
on the way to a nephew’s in Idaho
he sat by a blue
uniformed boy headed south
they talked tractors
and fifty years were forgotten.

Bus got fixed
was it brakes or a fuel pump
didn’t matter
something electrical sparked in him
maybe his son
was with that girl in Independence.

Her Dad was
from Sedalia or was it Emporia?
She cut hair, maybe
for the first time in his life
he’d turn around
and mosey on over to Missouri.


About mrsorenson

NOT my president
This entry was posted in poem, poetry, song and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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