Broken Glass at the Racetrack
It’s a little startling to come here now,
the glass walls shattered and fallen,
the nasty words on the walls,
most of what was wonderful stripped away,
and the rubble littered throughout.
You remember something different. Sparkling,
Alive. A place people came to with good reason.
You remember excitement and hope.
Fresh food and music that could be heard for miles.
You remember as you sit in the sole chair still remaining.
This did not happen all at once, no matter how it feels.
It never does. Greed gets you. A lack of care
for the people who came, week after week,
some strange game to see just how little
they would accept, allowing the maintenance,
care and feeding of those who mattered
to fall to the wayside, collecting tickets to the last
Until there was no one there.
Just you and the chair,
staring through broken glass.
About this poem
Things fall apart. But never as suddenly as it seems. I wrote this with the Republican Party in mind, but the same can be said of anything that falls apart. Marriages. Faith. Businesses. Take your pick.
Be well. Hold together.
Tom
