Kingdom Come

Pulling up

to my old man's place

the house

I'm still trying

to grow up in

four decades later

I notice rust-red

rotten wood

at the curb

next to the green

plastic trash can.

When I limp out

of my truck

after work

I recognize

the rubbish:

the walls of 

my Radio Flyer

repainted once

for my kid brother

now relegated

to refuse status.

A few years ago

it would have upset me

but now I see the beauty

in the death

of what's run its course.

You can't circle wagons

if there's only one.