Plywood store-fronts

These dreams long fluttered
skybound embers
Now tumbling
to gutter disenchantment

who hoped
dreamed of better times
of when our families
might live
free of creeping doubt
Rigid hands
of credit card clutches

Dreams leave only vacancies
when luck
pulls the plug

[this poem came upon me while driving through downtown New London. Many of the towns I’ve lived in are run-down, with businesses opening and then going out of business with alarming regularity; each one a dream of financial independence. No-one who starts a business believes it will fail. A sad moment of reflection; my heart was with all those lost dreams.]