What Old Men Do When They Tell Their Wives They’re Going o Walk the Dog

What Old Men Do When They Tell Their Wives They’re Going to Walk the Dog

 

Old men come down to the depot just to see what’s still there,

 

the switch lock, the train orders, the dispatcher’s chair.

Yellowed papers hang from clipboards of a grander time,

when the Rock Island Rocket ruled the main line.

She breezed through town at a hundred miles an hour,

with a hearty “Highball!” from the man in the tower.

Picks and shovels once held by artisans of track

now stand covered with cobwebs in the gandy dancer’s shack.

All that remains is a weathered shell, broken shed

and dreams of legends in an old man’s head.

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