Wednesday, December 20, 2017

back in the day, hank williams lived a couple hours up the road


before elvis and long before dylan
when the roads were all two-lane
and the poverty shacks
jumped right out
to the pavement or gravel 
from the black soil
and if you look closely
it's all still there
more hidden
behind tall pines and sawmills
paper mills
abandoned cotton fields
trash burning power plants
     never getting the recycle message

every lonesome whistle voice
jabs you in the ribs
skinny ribs at that
that's not a twang you're hearing
but a moan
by the time summer comes
you won't be sweating
the small things
but looking for a
last-chance way out
from this downward spiral hell
they're trying to sell you
as so-called reform

when the fog finally lifts
hank williams will still be
yodeling from his grave
     in every whistle
     a long refrain

--- e b bortz

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