Hobo Jungle

An endless song
played
in a single key
with a variable speed
clackity clack, clackity clack
hear the wheels on the rails

Hypnotic in a sense
mile after mile
picturesque scenery scrolling by
little farm houses
barns
fences
cattle grazing
occasional wave from someone living that dream

Is it real?
Am I dreaming ?
A fine line between
a sudden jolt
awakened to the reality
dampness in the air
thirsty for fresh water
pulsating pains with
faint recollections of my last fine meal

No time schedule no destination
moving
waiting
anticipating the next stop
will it provide the sustenance
for another day

Not a tramp
not a bum
Hobo's have their own sense of worth
and integrity
working as they go
obeying the laws of Hobo jungle
sharing
not withholding
for that they would pay
dearly

Never intended to be a hobo
no conscience decision was made
fleeing the flesh of man
coping with things they don't understand
not a cowardly act
self preservation.

Dreams of going home
only a few realize
the crooked path to a fiery end
death is not the enemy
and times
a welcome friend
to end the dream
with hope
to start again …....