ghosts lurk around those crosses there's a couple on Kinsman, you know tucked in the roadside littered weeds black craters of stolen memories strewn with sooty plastic flowers smeared with bygone tears broken down old scarecrows faded to the reckless speeders that pass like the one that stands just below the dog-leg turn off old 608 south, imagine the anguish, the laments of loss, that planted it there, a poison mushroom cap from the bloody glass and shattered skull chips manure for the haunted stakes inundated with the stinking residue of road-kill dogs and skunks, and that is all there is a memorial that the party is officially over, one that should have never reached the pavement © Brian Hodgkinson Jr. (aka) Limericist 2007/2021
Ghost Stakes
02
Apr