The Turnpike

Our old farm, all grown up now. Sold it when my second wife divorced me. Got rid of it. Place is all grown to bushes. I’d have kept that place if the turnpike hadn’t gone through. We’d go out and sit on the steps years ago. Listen to night noises. Owls be hooting. Foxes yapping, coons squalling.
After the turnpike went through I used to sit on the west steps there and all I could hear was vroom vroom vroom. Go back inside and slam the door disgusted. So I got rid of the place. They went through Clarence Berry’s property. Right down through the middle of his big field. Now he was making his living on his farm. It worked him up so he finally hung himself. Found him hanging off a beam one morning. Walt