Farewell to thee (Psalm for Pueblo, CO.)

by Ralkkai

So it seems
this is where they come to die
or to live it out like the
ones who come to die live it out.
I half-walk down half-streets
in Pueblo, CO.
and see all of those
people
carrying swords with no blades.
Some in the windows looking out
at us as our corpses
stutter by.
Some with dreadlocks
smelling of a new sort of old
and some selling fresh-ground
Ethiopian beans on request.
They dance as they carry their
swords with no blades
down streets with no names
and I can’t help but feel
like this is where my journey is leading me
even though my journey
is only half-over.
We move on to Lake City
tomorrow and a piece of me
will stay behind – I know it –
sipping coffee in corner cafes
and drinking a Shamrock Porter
while mingling with neon funk.
And the people will remain people
like the dog remains a dog.
A part of me dies
as I think of Ethiopian beans and
taking photos of mountains.
Farewell, to thee,
my sweet memory.

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