Boxcar Rockstar

The old man has no teeth
two shoes but no laces,
an incomplete look in his eyes.

He plays a guitar
with only five strings.

I imagine him touring,
coal pile to steel mill.

During the long nights he watches
for the glow of another town
and rubs the spray-painted
door of his boxcar.

Before sleep he pats his guitar
and thinks about a pair of socks.