In the rainstorm the trigger is cooling: The hand is
Letting off,
The barrel of the transom is smoking; something has been
Done.
Green is gone, and I’ve dropped off everything at the
Library and come unwound:
I sit and lie and take refuge: I remember the Pledge of
Allegiance,
Alligators must remember everything, since they
Have not changed forever;
And I wonder how the birds survive while the sky is
Coming down,
Or maybe that is just a rumor. Maybe you are still here,
And have not packed up and left with everything of
My town.
My Town
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