Anywhere Along the Platte

This town, so like the others up and down
The valley, puts me out of sorts. I don't know
Why. The very things which brought me
Here, the crushing, humid summer heat,
The streets of stately trees, and neatly tended,
Ancient homes, the decent, dowdy people,
Who I see downtown and coming out of
Churches, fearing anything which wasn't
In its place when they were born, seem less
The welcome change I sought when I was
Eager to escape the city's faddish charms
Than shackles which have tethered me. To
See someone who follows fashion, hear
Another language, to be challenged
By a zealot to remake the very world which
Has been so well defended here would
Break these shackles, I believe..., but looking
Down the baking highway, seeing only
Empty sidewalks, knowing that there's
Nothing in this valley, but a line of towns
Exactly like the one I'm in, defeats me.
I go back inside, enlightened, in a sense.
I know the reasons why I'm out of sorts.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 23 times
Written on 2011-07-07 at 14:22

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text