By Thomas Page
A skeleton of
An overpass flanked by grass
Starting to grow there
“It’s a yellow day”
My dad says as the sun tries
To simulate heat
The train car salted,
Beaten by boots and oxfords:
Mineral collage
Venomous tongues spake
Falsehoods that were hard to break.
How could one forsake?
Lonely beer car rolls
Along the metrocar floor
Away and to me
Academy of the Heart And Mind 