People say they want to live in a small town,
but when I look out my window
all I see is
Zero.

I look out my left window,
Zero.

I glance out my right window,
Zero.

The daily routines,
an Act Without Words.

We go through the motions in a small town,
get up, smile at people we hate,
hope for something more,
repeat.

In a small town
you bite your tongue,
just to keep the peace.
Did you bleed today?

There’s no point in asking
how someone is
because we already know.

Each new piece of gossip
strings us along,
Beckons
teases.


The small town will hold
anything over your head.
It will dangle a divorce
suspend a separation
and hang up a hook up.

In a small town,
the space between people’s teeth
revealed by their fake smiles
serve as cre-
Nells

People rave about the
fields of grass, and the trees.
In each patch of green
lies un lucky Clov-
ers
The fresh air is fetid.
The stink of the town’s
***** laundry is
enough to make
any argument for the town Null.
Zero.
It’s almost genetic,
the little Nagg-
lings in the school yard,
slicing, dividing, cutting
people like cake.

Settling for small town life,
is a fate worse than Hamm-
lets think about it.

No excitement.
No privacy.
No trust.
Zero.