Black Lines

Drawing Black Lines,
On the faces of the Dead.
The damned, eternally lost;
Salvation comes on a train,
Black engines and white smoke,
Trumbling down the tracks
Towards the city of the Dead.

Miss ____________,
Why did you not leave the light on?
You tripped in the dark
And landed on your backhoe (be sure to hand your ticket to the conductor),
Enjoy your ride.

“Welcome to Sunny _______!” the sign reads,
Postcards are a buck twenty-nine (no tax)
I write you my love, and my eternal sorrow
For you.
I threw away your backhoe,
Because it reminded me of the ride you took.

And how your face would be drawn in black lines and white smoke.

“Wish you were here.”

(all poems by geof kirby). fin.