and gets hung
on the curb
then,
freed by the wind
lands in brown weeds
beside the big ditch.
I kick at a beer can.

the houses seem smaller,
the neighborhood
tired, run down.
brown faced apartments
now grow
instead of green crops,
in the fields
where we played.

I walk back to my car,
crank up the heat
light a cigar
crack a window
blow the smoke out,
put it in gear
drive off.