16 July 2001, Room 6, Groveland Hotel

16 July 2001, Room 6, Groveland Hotel

An iron door clangs,
One bat flaps over the roof
As Blythe, not snooty,
Retires after a summer-soup day.

The old jail emits the ghosts
That still haunt the top of
The hill. Imagine traveling so
Far only to be squeezed out.

Too many men, not enough
Gold, but these days, plenty
Of jails. You stake a claim,
Dig best you can, only to get

Flea bites, blisters and no
Way home after you trade
Your last mule for two
Week’s slop. We don’t

Know anything like that
Now. We’re soft, getting
Softer every year. But bats
Flap, doors clang, and the

Flow of visitors provides
A few steady jobs. Is
This the last fling for nature?
Do we extract what we

Can and move on, or is
Our new way even more
Exploitive? Tomorrow we’ll
See things we’re not

Likely to see again in
This life. So here’s to the
Friendly folks who spread
Joy with small porcelain

Dolls, antique surroundings,
Creative meals, funny
Ghost stories, and the humanity
To remember how it was.

 

 

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2001. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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