Hairpin turns in old cars
With bad brakes, the reek
Of whiskey. Tacky towns
With tilted streets, young girls
Giggling on corners, sullen boys
That spit as I walk by.
Dark climbing out of hollows,
Sleepless nights in railroad towns,
Bare floors in cheap hotels, all night
Rumble of trains, the lonely shrill
Of steam echoing across ridges
That hemmed the narrow valleys.
At twenty it was all adventure.
Now time has worn away that high
That hones the edge of danger.
Fear, patient in the shadows,
Creeps in to take its turn,
Like a dark mold spreading
Across a bright canvas.