walking along the rail service road
you can see the rain starting
the heavy clouds
the wind blowing dust
looking for one of those bunker holes
out of the wind and light a smoke
lazy afternoons with whomever you could find
proto-parties in the tall grass
the thunder of steel wheels rolling by
ditch rivers…
the coke from the steel mills like lava
a floating rock in ebony black
ditch rivers
the carbon remains of the heady rolls of white metal
gushing out of the mills
waiting for night
sitting on the hill watching the slag poured out
red rivers of heat into the bay
the sharp blue of the hydraulic hammer hits
light shows and thunder
the glowing embers of shared cigarettes
passing bottles of gin giggles
the ever rustling bushes
nothing remains still here…
businessmen in suits
briefcases lined up at the bus queues
the missing umbrellas
the mass transit lines
heading to the trains
rolling away
life is paid in bills and coin
far from the Hades mills
the tall grass
the ditch rivers…
the constant winds blowing off the lake
the dream is some where else down the line
distance
through the turnstiles
the thunder from her boom box blares out warning
danger in the city
the coils of dust tossed up by the rushing currents
nothing remains still here…
the steel canyon walls
thunder dance rituals
hypnotic contortions of raw sex and dementia
a frenzy of passion awaiting the release
the heat on the rooftops
fire escapes and park benches
the missing vocals of pleasure
the bass thunder
coarse guitar riffs
words mean nothing
just rocks floating down the ditch rivers.
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