An Alone Poem

  

An Alone Poem

 

I was all alone

at Kendricks Crossing, Wyoming

sitting Indian style on the rough wood

of a Burlington Northern Railroad

flat bed car.

 

Discussing life with an itinerant hobo,

when he jumped up and left

a half empty pail of rail spikes

along with his hammer.

 

For the beckoning call

of an open door

on a Santa Fe rail car.

 

Leaving me alone

to watch the sunsets

silhouetted against the ridges of the Big Horns.

 

Dying with the dull aching

in the muscles of my arms

between the lines

of one of my poems.

Written in Sheridan, Wyoming