Reservations 1

Reservations 1 David J Walker Why is this a town in the middle of nowhere Why is my map glowing Why are there no vacancies Why isn’t the river flowing in any direction Every window board up Every pain broken Every door locked shut Rustic isolation The highway ends at a bus stop The train tracks fade into darkness A dirt road runs deep into a steep one-way trek west A lone cotton gin spins fabric into the wind An old translucent specter watching Wonders if I will stay for dinner He knows I am not from around here Without a name on a local headstone I smile and whisper in my head I’m just passing through So was I he replied As he faded into an unseen yesterday A thousand miles away Why isn’t the river flowing