Old Chevy squealed frustration over the rough asphalt
just outside the little town he reached at dusk.
They noticed his laughter in the beer parlor
and at the convenience store where he bought a pack of smokes.

Molly felt overwhelmed when she looked deep in his eyes
and by chance touched his hand.
None ever called his name.
Who was the unknown soldier who fought by our side
in the battle for the spring song?

Futility recommenced human history.
Unaccomplished travesty
when the next day on his way out of town
a door slammed behind him
and when they found him fallen
in the middle of the street
they knew he talked to our glorious ancestors
just one stratum below the reality of his dream.

The following Sunday, Molly went to church
dressed in her red dress and on her golden hair,
the white scarf.

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