This morning's  fog has coal smelling memories
Of several coking fires burning in a goddess city
With their low smokes rising like clouds in the hills
As a little  steam emerges from speaking mouths
And tongues loll over sleazy expletives for the day.

The train's honk has no  special coal memories 
Except of ancestor coal  trains, their  mustaches
Smelling of buttermilk and their eyes gone smoky 
With gray memories ,coal rising from the bottom
Of an earth that dug deep into greed and misery.
Smoke is the earth burning its ancient memories.

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