This Town

I

I came to this town on the back of my mothers breath

and the grunt of my fathers expectations,

the fear more opposite then expected

and soon discovered that there are strange apposing forces

at work.

II

In the still of night traffic patterns mock me,

their constant flow toward something I can't see,

a movement across the gap of integrity that seems to touch

some silent voice.

III

Pleasure fills this town and desire keeps it going.

It isn't as though the forests want their vengeance,

the trees don't care either way.

However, when the waters run down the side

of the mountains we hear their cries of clear cut loss

on the banks of the muddy waters.

IV

I have been here 15 years now

and I don't know who's changed;

me or this town. Maybe I've grown

as the town has aged.

Some of the things I remember

are gone, others I simply forgot.

V

I don't much expect that it will make sense.

Maybe it's meant to be awkward,

a fidgeting that creates meaning

in the friction between fingers.

VI

It's gets harder to stand in the crowd,

to watch the stream carry the dead fish away.

The night are long, but at lease they're quite.

VII

Some call it the end, others wreckage.

It just happened, falls apart at the streams.