like low lying ghosts from an ancient era.
The sprawl of steel and rigs on the road
surely wasn't what they dreamed long ago.
It's a crude life for many, a cold one for the rest.
Dad's gone for a while. Mom's trying her best.
Men here have been wearing flannel and tight jeans
'Help Wanted' signs in every window.
People get high. The taxes are low.
Forget the formalities just hop in and drive
those jacked up trucks; a source of pride.
Pump jacks nod their heads in pleasure,
they keep working despite the weather.
It snows in the fall, and in the spring there's still snow.
It might snow in the summer for all I know.
It's something only a Canadian can truly understand;
day to day living in this frozen flat land.