CLAMOR
The little boy was reaching; treats
and attribution. Lakeside waters,
frozen for weeks, crunched under
his feet, while - half an acre away -
two munching deer pawed ground
for more.
-
I guess it's all the same and everywhere.
Bundled ladies hopping out of cars to
get their supermarket wares; the old,
gruff farmer in his jeans and John
Deere hat coming down off his truck
two-step height to buy tobacco and
beer. The store here sells it all.
-
Over to the side, where the broken trees
stay tumbled, the old, abandoned, house
more like a hotel than anything else stands
silent and vacant. Henrys and Hectors,
all those local names, seem everywhere.
-
The Dollar Store? That's around here
too - colored waters, candy, paper
towels, snacks and junk. A barn made
of nothing, a shed filled with crap;
and that's that.
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