A Path Goes By
A path goes by
Along a gas line bare.
Short grass grows or dies.
Garbage gathers.
The pole stands alone.
Does the pole dream
of rows of poles
carrying telegrams
then phone calls
or perhaps electricity?
Does the pole wonder
why gas flows below
why a person walks by
why a truck dumps trash
why trees grow and die?
It’s just a pole.
It doesn’t care.
I walk on by
and wonder.
And probably forget.
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