Good people watching progress pass by.
I student taught there in 1970.
The traffic light blinks yellow and red,
you might say the town’s kinda’ dead.
No one slows down, it’s a one-horse town.
that face with the frown is Constable Brown.
Mangy old dog a-crossin’ the street,
maybe someone will give him a treat.
Drunk stumbles out of Murphy’s’ Saloon,
smellin’ just’ like Murphy’s’ spittoon.
A barefoot kid in bib overalls,
won’t go home ‘till his Mama calls.
Passenger train rumbles on through,
no place to stop, nuthin’ to do.
The bank’s boarded up, it went bankrupt.
its end was abrupt, it was corrupt.
Still has a church, a school and a bar,
and up on blocks, a rusty old car.
A spot on the road, where commerce once flowed,
now no one’s abode, has got a Zip Code,
These little towns they all look the same,
with only a tower to give ‘em a name.
Take my advice, small towns are nice,
they can entice, just don’t blink twice.
LDT Apr 24, ‘22
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Outlaws, Outrages and Outright Lies 
haha! You didn’t like that, huh? As I was reading your poem, my mind clicked on one thought. What if all towns and cities come to this? Ug. Hingham might almost be heaven if that happened! I have to go look up where Hingham is now!
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