The gray dreary industrialist
Clamors to hang on to
A breath of fresh air
That never arrives
With the current,
Only a cloudy hangover
From a glut of excessive thirst
And hunger for one last nickel bolt
To hold it all together
Before he rusts
And crumbles and fades
Into another era’s dust of a memory,
Her ghost arrives with a sparkle and a spritz
To generate one last quiescent charm
To spark a white hot regeneration,
But the shivers numbly pass through the cold ambivalence
Forcing her to gasp and move onward
As she passes through Gary.
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