An enclave of vast differentness
From almost everywhere.
A place where
The mainstream has diverted
And left a backwater
Of rebel flags on pickup trucks and
Department stores that
Don’t sell any ladies dresses.
A place where t-shirts loudly shout
“It’s my right to make you sick -
The Constitution says so.”
A place where thinking’s so alike
It could be called homogenized.
Where rumors suddenly become facts
And checking them anathema .
Where tennis shoes are worn to church
And cargo shorts to weddings.
A place bathed in self righteousness
With tolerance a myth.
A place that’s situated
On a small but mighty river
That ebbs and flows
From day to day at the whim
Of men in shirtsleeves
Who control the dam,
And leave their trucks parked just outside
With the flags still proudly flying.
                   ljm