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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
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