The peeps you'd bought were chirping in the box. <br />The groundhog lied again. You'd left to buy <br />beer, bread and chipped ham. It was Easter Sunday. <br />Bells from a dozen churches filled the air <br />in this small steel town where the unemployed <br />perpetually keep beer gardens open. <br />You'd yelled: 'Yunz better worsh them dishes <br />and redd up things before yunz go outside.' <br />You said you'd had enough of eating jumbo <br />and food stamps didn't make a difference. <br />We didn't know you'd go by way of Altoona, <br />that you'd go ghost on mommy and us kids. <br />You left behind a bloodstain in your truck, <br />the lasting memory of onion snow.<br /><br />Leo Yankevich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/onion-snow/
