we moved when i was young
maybe it was because of john wayne gacy
he might as well have been my uncle,
he was in the town after so many years
in the town even after we burned his paintings
sky's yellow still, stomach acid from all the boys
so pretty and vibrant after the rain
so pretty and vibrant on the white crosses
nixon thinks so, too, im not alone
he ran a cemetery in the town
wish i were buried there, next to beverly marsh
in the town where i grew up, in the land of flowers blooming for me