End of Track
by Gerard Malanga
You’ll not find me in historic Hudson among the periwinkles
You’ll not find the footstep traces
soon followed by those cranky voids and craggy faces.
The hemlocks blossoming.
Who’s noticing ?
Who gives a care ?
Who walks along silently, who walks
along railroad sidings now abandoned
will surely reach track’s end somewhere
in time when doors unlock, swing open.
Sunlight pouring in.