Every barn at this point
is another metaphor
with a roof and a door
straining against its last hinge.
As for the neighboring geography
whatever's handy belongs
to the surrounding
landscape --
including that old farmer
bent to the truck tire flat
in front of the only world
he's ever known.
Should he still
have a wife I imagine her
a remorseful porch song he plays
on the banjo after
his dog's obscenities
have frightened off the sun.
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