There was a job
Spending time
Toward you
Who expected
As much
As given
What was dug
Scraped or spun
Made us a world
Deep and wide
Elastic
The mills
Are only purgatory
Now
Driven between
Bricks and mortar
A pile of vines
Unsuited
Swatting ghosts
Is exhausting
Main street
Is a parade
Of them
Unemployed
At hand
The heavy lifting
Has begun
Without a back
To break
Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013
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