ghost town
no more; the barkeep's cherub face and champagne grinand there isn't a drop to drink in the saloon
chocolate candy smears trail the theatre aisles
up on the stage, the slackened red curtain lay strewn
the service bell echoes up the hotel's stairs
and around the back, stiff bedsheets cling to the lines
petals crunch underfoot in front of the chapel
the doors have been sealed with weathered boards of pine
bells clang in the steeple
they call all over town
but the world had moved on
all before he came down
he imagines them all --
they mount their trusty saddles
and then all he hears is
the shuttered windows' rattle
posted by jomilkman @ 2:54 PM
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