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City of my Father
A day in this gray truck.
Sun setting in the west, back home.
The West Virginia countryside old and withered,
With paint chipped
Houses, decaying with termites.
Anticipated big blue Pennsylvania Welcomes You.
Trees go on for ages.
All leafless with winter’s wrath still in effect.
Big letters inform Fort Pitt Tunnel.
Tunnel old with erosion,
Littered with trash and pieces of metal.
Finally the end of the tunnel.
The yellow strips of light illuminating the tunnel come to an end,
Meeting the blackness of night sky.
Oldies songs capture my attention,
But then stop as abruptly as it began.
Silence over takes the tired truck.
Chills pass all over my body.
My mouth gapes open.
I grab my glasses.
Lights of red, white, blue and green.
I love this place.
At that moment it happened.
White flakes descended from the heavens.
Enthralled and overjoyed,
Turning to my left, is Heinz field in all its glory.
The bright yellow of the stadium beams at me from the bridge.
The light of the foul poles of PNC Park
Glow a soft bright blue.
Two great rivers converge on a
Third and form the golden triangle.
What’s there not to love about Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania?