Harper’s Five and Dime The failed mill, absent families, yards painted dandelion-yellow. Eczema paint-flakes peel from siding. Old Man Weaver’s broken chimney swims his forgotten yard—sea-monster in a Loch of weeds. Ice-floes of boiling asphalt cut through town. Harper’s Five & Dime, Soda Fountain, and Apothecary ignores the corner of Highway 124 and Mill Road—mute sign, bubonic brass handles, fresh coat of thirty-year-old neglect. Glass shards razor the sidewalk—once windows—once clean— once Piggly-Wiggly. Coyote tracks, circle a stubby yellow hydrant, compete for dark corners behind rusted trashcans. A rattlesnake bakes in front of Murphy’s Barbershop, stands guards over the open doorway. Shingles crumble, highway signs fade—no way to go home again when the foundation’s gone. - Daryl Yearwood
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