Littlecity
IV.
our town—a muddy mix remembered and forgotten
seven generations long and we all forget when we fall in
love
the ravages of skinhate losin' all meaning for a moment
in april in may in october when it seems love colors us
equal
our children reflectin’ pools of our love and our hate
more mixed than not yet the lines remain between distant
relations
held captive by what no longer holds meaning given meaning
in alcohol meth ridden weedy backyards backforties in pickup
beds where love consummated too soon too young so very
beautiful under oaks filtering starlight and dawn when we rush
home to crawl through double sash wooden windows peeling
paint
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