Clayton, North Carolina (Population 1)

The white slashes on the gravel
have led me far from home
into another place - another world.
My white Pontiac is flying
over rotting farms and broken picket fences,
swimming past a town
filled with thriving weeds and wilted daffodils.
And everywhere: empty.
The population has vanished.
The shops, once bustling with men
have now been handed to the flies.
The ovens that belonged
to the multitude of restaurants
are rusting away
with the stench of past entrees.
The houses are losing paint,
as time wipes it away
like an eraser does to pencil mark.
Then my car's engine overheats,
joining the rest of the quiet, nothing-town,
and I am stuck - defenseless
on a dirt road
that will never have
another passenger.


~J.V.Harker~
~Monday 29 June 2009~