This Long Road

mud and muck
our feet pull themselves
into next steps so many
sharp curves, cliffs paths
leading nowhere but
decay and sorrow

the wrecked poor working
out ways to eke out a living
fighting over nickels and dimes
showing off their latest purchase

why did we dream up fine
endings as we spun our days?
how could we ever believe
that delusion? listening to
cats howling at night, seeing
flowers die at first frost

there is only constant hunger
that stabbing pain in our bellies
which makes us join long lines
for this bitter harvest of our lives