The tired old chalky brick
was no match for the massive
steel blade. The scruffy man at
the controls plowed with precision.
Section by section succumbed;
tumbling over it in chunks. The
roar of the diesel engine grew
as the blade shoot into foundation.
Toppled domino tracks scarred
the earth. The beep beep beep
of those are in reverse announced
another pass.
The quaint old Victorian home
stood in the way of progress. Its
demise was quick; no witnesses,
funeral or eulogies.
A twisted mass of rubble would make
way for modern convenience. It would
be replaced by a cold gray concrete
parking terrace.
“Progress” was printed in Esther, No. 1 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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