The Ted Fay Fly Shop lures you in
To the Angler Inn
Next to Rapunzel’s Castle.
Another town that time forgot,
More pink shutters,
Another red barn diner
With checkerboard floors
And menus that never change
Hung as curtains,
Deer head hat racks,
Train track bric a brac
And local businesses on the placemats
That exist at least in memory
If not in fact.
The 5 dollar charge for whining
Has not been updated for inflation,
But they’ll charge you just the same.
The lumber haulers have all gone
All that’s left is the railroad,
Itself an anachronism, some ironic
Take on retro tourism, a touchstone
To dreams embezzled by bankers
Like a smashed penny that makes
The box that contains your childhood memories
Smell like creosote.
