The enormous muscle-bound dobbins of autumn

Are gone now, to dark barns,

Where they can be lazy,

Where they can munch little apples, lazy,

In their sleep.

And many highways are bare.

You, too, are abandoned

Beside a street, now,

Near Mansfield, Ohio.

Once in that town, that looks

Like a sixty-year-old whore selling poppies

On Armistice Day, you died

Alone.