| This Town
there’s
a running competition
between me and this town
it thinks it’s tougher
it shows me weekend nights
lit by the hair of
blond girls
tries to scare me with
shrill laughter of
young strangers
gawking at all they don’t know
allows black cars
with dangerous-looking spoilers
and ruby taillights
to blow past me
bumping bass
this town thinks it’s a garden
budding greatness, future pop star girls
and rapper guys generating heat
in the seaside soil
local youth in all their glory
mirroring
the mediocre middle aged
eating ice cream in the place
they’ve been all their lives
this town,
a beat-up box of stagnancy
a gaggle of living buoys docked
in their maritime village
from which I have detached
and won |