Restoration/Recompense

On dying highways in the north country
Tiny canals crisscross ancient macadam
Now in customarily understated valleys
Blind joyriders sail past futures past
These are the places that keep all time
Unnumbered broken telegraph poles lean
Slantwise aged avant guardsmen
Silently hold secrets proudly carried
Slow quiet warm afternoon sun bakes them
Minutes subtracted in golden glow
Years struck off the tally by hurricane
Decades gone with graceless combustion

If neither side cares of the loss of another of the other, in the battle where paper beats rock but is crumpled thereafter, and the archives are written by the winners but the winners are dead--

--whose choice is it to raze and raise anew, without even the homage given by the PT Cruiser?

I ask you that.

(no subject)

NOW maybe I can goddamn well sleep. Fucking stonertalk.