You can keep your windy cities
and pockets full of light,
your skyscrapers and office buildings
that stand like eager children.
You can keep your undergrounds
and asphault spaghetti, the
commuters who ride them like
rollercoasters. You can keep your
elevators and moving sidewalks
your neon nights and midnight oil.
Just leave me this railroad town
with its slow summer clouds
and crawling heat. Leave me
its humble bones and modest homes.
Leave me its translucent stars
that stir and rise with the
faraway bellow of a southbound train.