Though the fog covers everything else on the horizon
The smoke from your six regal cooling towers pushes through into great plumes in the sky
It reminds me of Toronto's CN Tower, a sign that our destination is approaching
Walking through the park, a narrow strip of green through the power corridor
The power pylons loom overhead like great floating ghosts
Nearly invisible through the cloud, eerily levitating above us
Their presence becomes more tangible as we approach, the sound of high voltage buzzing in the atmosphere
There's something almost beautiful about this monstrosity of power plant and town
An arranged marriage where one of the partners is most unhappy
But eventually learns to live with the other, settling into existence
Yet all is barely visible through the mist
Could we live here?
Are you seeking a new career as a poet? Hope you won't have the high voltage buzz nearby...
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