30 - Something will stay.

joneworlds@mailbox.org

That ripped micro chip,

a put down Peterbilt

that the red rust must turn.

A sound in the slimy playground

where the swings snapped off

some springs ago.

But, still something.

And that pipe

under you, under me,

under then, under now,

under later,

may always be.

And this also, is something.

When the sun groans up

again in the morning,

says to the sprout

to tell us that

maybe we can still

bring it all back again,

and dry all this off.

But it won't say

when again it will be warm.

But maybe not.

Some somethings will stay

after we go away.

And they are from us

but not of us.

Is that all it came to?

Maybe just as well.

Next - 31 - The highway signs bother me.

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