this town becomes a location,
a place to hibernate, a way
through to something else.
its identity manifests itself
in the bulbs of a dried flowers
that don't really belong here.
somewhere in the corner of yesterday
it cowers with tomorrow and hunkers
behind red trees and waits for the cover
of progress, but when moisture lifts,
the sky takes what it can and let's it all go.
of course it only takes a few drops
to know what falling is like,
but a change in climate
only occurs when watching TV.
and somewhere amongst the tall grass
that grows against the decayed buildings
waits the faded image of
a place that demands recognition.