Retired.Plumber.Musician.He
regretted what has happened to his village
He knew all the musicians(once).Played country(not western!
with children,grandchildren,great-a dynasty extending
But he has tears for Austin's loss of integrity-
nobody knows anybody.He is confused by traffic
hates hate,wishes we could all just"get along"
His song is almost finished-he wears a cap
and rides a white pickup.He knows he is a vanishing species
Of course,you may see a conservative redneck
awash with sentimental nostalgia/yet is he
reminiscent of times this city denies-the old,poor,working class
who live from hand to mouth and built these houses
roof by roof,pipe by pipe-before machines and migration patterns
changed all that.He looks back.All his past has passed-
as we will.One day we will be old-a story told
voice to ear,sotto voce,whispered like a legend
of a newer Austin,lost in time and change and traffic
Gone like memory-never to come back
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