I drove through Franklin, NH, last weekend and was reminded
again of how the world has changed in the last fifty years.
Our country’s economy has transformed from a manufacturing
base to one dependent on service businesses and high tech. In the process we
have witnessed many factory towns become invisible.
The smoke stacks have gradually disappeared, many remaining
only as memorials to a lost way of life. Those few that still function are
under constant assault from our own government as well as those in other parts
of the world that are anxious to replace them.
For those citizens who are trapped in the cities and towns
that depended on manufacturing, it has become a cold and empty existence.
Factory Town (Riding in Boxcars, 2006) is a
reflection of what I saw as I visited many of these places.
Glenn K. Currie
Factory Town
Smoke from high
stacks,
Is disappearing,
Carried away by a frigid wind,
Sweeping in from the
West,
Leaving
Barren horizons.
Night lights,
Of homes and factories,
Burn weakly,
Their reflections
An orange blur
Against blackened
snow.
Asian wolves,
Silently watch
From ancient woods,
Waiting for
stragglers,
Too old
To keep pace.
Broken windows shiver
In the cold.
Fragile shelter
From invaders,
Decimating
The land.
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