I travelled past foundries withered into dust
and boarded, tired caffeine stops
reclaimed now by the ivy holding
an original lien on the property,
(taverns with neon Iron City signs
were the only places doing much business now)
past mountains mined carelessly, left to bleed
clay red as molten steel
to find that you were the only part of Pittsburgh
to remain the same; still sitting,
resting, you looked into the dull sea
of leprous B & O cars
in the switchyard
behind your duplex.