Hannah Junction

A poem inspired by a trip to a random location on a topographical map.

In amongst the waves of durum
Up by a long line of trees
There lies a spot nobody sees
Two lines diverge, one north, one west
One is in shambles, the other's the best

Scars still there, steel and wood endure them
Towns are dying out, the youth have gone away
It's happening little by little and day by day
From the word meaning inclusive disjunction
To where drinking scotch is a national function

Two brothers live at the far end
Both grew up on the old line
Now it went away, it just took time
The durum grown, it went easily to the masses
Now it must be trucked out, money paid for the gasses

Buying out, selling out, some things can't mend
Seeing those near you go under is a pill to swallow
You pray every day and every night that you don't follow
Look at the lines, it's torn up before your eyes
It's a rotting, reeking carcass attracting the flies

A man in a cap, splattered with white paint
Sees an abysmal future with no hope in mind
The wane of the century, a man he was in ninety-nine
If he wants to live here, he has to find a function
And learn from the lesson that is Hannah Junction