The village

It seemed like a ghost town,

this place, this wide Mark in the road.

Just a bunch of forlorn houses

behind a country tavern.

A long-abandonded schoolhouse

sat next to a slag heap,strangely

Still looking to welcome students

Ahead of a business district

full of taprooms

and cluttered,closed stores.

The grocery still serves as a Post Office.

Another tavern, then another,

one, two, Anita's makes three.

As last year's politicians fade and smile

while seeking votes.

The square which draws

the homes of old

and just beginning young

is the only thing around.

A lonely bump

Off a lonely road

And broken letters

Spell in code.

ST R MO L BR WIN

P RU IL