a welcome home of sorts….

wheels rolling fast towards home —
stands in its stoic capital letters all lit up
and Peterbilt’s giving a smile
(perhaps a smirk) and
the logical lines of the plant that has no name
its horizontal pipes
leading the way

white smoke casually glances
and the piles piles piles of decay
or construction
give a deep bow

and in a near distance
the Natty Boh man
beckons with a neon

[author’s note on this: for better or worse, baltimore always has that knowing, that good natured ability to look at itself and take it all in with a slight* chip on the shoulder]

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