Texas 2

4th poem in the collection, Road Noise.

Red and grey prefab,
A Texaco station
With windows boarded-up.

Not old wood
That could be quaintly
Left to rot.

Prefab slabs
Don’t rust—don’t rot,
But only bleed color.

Until cracked,
A colorless corpse
Under a vampire sun,

They collapse
Into a windblown
Prefab plastic heap.

© 1996 William Herndon, All Rights Reserved
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