Illinois cornfields

are lined with heavy husks. 

The sub-compacts roll out
     of town and their cold
     exhaust seeps unto the
     frozen riverbanks. 
Heroic Metropolis is a four
     drive on the quiet road
     north. 
The elders sit and watch--
     smoking Winstons--
     in their dilapidated farm-
     homes. 
Bungalows turn their backs
     on the garbagemens'
     route. 
You wanted to petition but
     you only have one foe. 
Ivy drills into the faded red
     bricks. 
When you shove yourself,
     try not to burn or cry. 

If I could leave
     here for good, I would.  
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2 Responses to “Illinois cornfields”
  1. Lyndon Doss says:

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  1. Informative and precise…

    Its difficult to find informative and precise information but here I noted…



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