Beneath The Tracks

I’ve lived down here forever it seems
on Thunderbird and nickel dreams,
I plunged headlong into the crack
from which there is no coming back,
accustomed to quite harsh extremes.

The rumble of an evening train
alerts me that it’s time again
to face the horde which claims it cares
but only offers sickened stares—
my steady diet of disdain.

One day perhaps the fates will grin,
some country club will vote me in;
until then I’ll keep keepin’ on
and hope someone can look beyond
these mottled streaks upon my skin.