Many of my hubs originate from my teenage years and those past twenty. Some pieces were funny. Some were sad,.Some were down right scary.
I'm alone. Finally alone. Gone are the sweat beads,
Steam pockets, diesel fuel, landscape blurs.
Running past blurred landscapes with no heads,
Oh, how she ran at her best, all cylinders and purrs.
Shining rails, cold October morning prevails, I crawl out,
Slow then fast, "Jimmy Hodge," engineer of 22 years,
I don't feel old, in fact, I look young, no lie, no doubt.
My friends and I ran 1300 miles, just tears. Just tears.
"Hodge" retired last week, then passed, I remain, the steel,
A newcomer's a coming, I just know it. Young, untried.
He's an old banana to peel, a new rod to reel.
I hide my older years and no smoke of tears "we" tried.
Yep. "Hodge" is history. Black clouds loom, foreman booms,
"I" stand on two shining, arrogant slices of steel.
Just to have a full glass, a big steak, a girl, a house with 10 rooms.
Then the older I get, the less that I feel. The less that I feel.
© 2020 Kenneth Avery