Day 263: Ghost Town

This is a place poem of a town I used to live right next to.  My sister helped me write a little bit of it.  This poem, along with "Swept Away" from Day 195, actually were accepted to be published in my school's magazine next semester.  I'm pretty excited.  Maybe next time it will be a story that will be published.  As with all of these school posts, each piece has been through many revisions, and I am posting the final copy.  I can't decide between calling this "Dying Town" or "Ghost Town."

Ghost Town

Past the sparse shrubs next to the road,

Beyond the dusty, cracked earth, and

Nestled below the brown rocky cliffs,

Sits the town of Clifton, Arizona,

Population: too small to bother with.

There is a Circle K gas station on the left,

A small stretch of forlorn houses to the right.

The tiny antique shop at the edge of town

Sells artifacts found in its own backyard.

In the heat of the day, Family Dollar draws

Three souls from a neighboring town, and

When the moon creeps out, the bar across

The road keeps dozens entertained.

At the heart of it all rests the town hall,

A brittle skeleton as parched as the land behind it.

Copper miners have torn away a corner of the

Cracked building to make room for their haul trucks

To carry dirt to the town above. The wind whistles

Through boarded windows, and the clock is silenced

At half past eight. Nearby, a wooden mining cart, now

A lizard’s bed, stays rusted to the tracks.

As I stare at this forgotten town from inside

My car, packed with moving boxes,

I know I won’t miss it.  I drive towards

My future of sandy beaches, and my tires kick back

Dust, adding another layer of dirt on that dying town.