A Constant Season

towering above Midwestern prairies
and millions of acres of soybeans 
wheat and corn
fierce winds collide
and compress 
with city heat
bus fumes
and bodies
to paint a light 
sweaty sheen 
on the flesh 
of sun worshippers
vagrants and dusty children.

come with me.
and listen 
to the setting sun.
feel the current charge 
the evening
sparking like neon lights
along the avenue.

hold onto me
and we will fly high above
glass and steel
and the crumbling masonry
of aged tenement halls
whose residents sag 
like the flag outside the VFW.

night will fall
but only to those on 
the circumference of the city
where farms fall 
into the familiar lull
of the glow of televisions 
and unspoken conversations
marked more by body language
than consonants and vowels.

stay with me
through the hours
as the casino blares its life
with its chorus of calls and cards.

beneath bright arches 
along the interstate
burgers and fries
are bagged and sold to travellers
and hungry third shifters.

engines hum near the depot
awaiting early morning commuters
and city busses ready for their
daily routine.
bread is baked
eggs are fried
and sleep washed from eyes
as a new day blushes in the east.

our journey must end
but the sequence of days
is eternal.

calendar pages change
but nothing of the streets ever change.

even fashions pendulum and trend
but the burn and freeze of the city
is a constant season.