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Pike County, Indiana '98

a wide flat dusty road becomes a
soup of hydrogen, carbon
as engines are left to rot

there are

truths scratched in the dirt.
empty crossings on corners speak of
transportation for the dead
old and broken down

this is

the burden of time
to see vultures wait for rust
as ghosts carve the valley 


First, I love the title. Fucking A plus for that. Secondly, this is very Bukowski. The last three lines are really some of the best lines I've read in quite a while.