#smalltown
A woman;
A quest
Back to a small town
To find
Some hunk
With
Five-o-clock shadow.
©2025Ellen Finn
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 11:40 AM UTC
Just the
right amount
of heat (😉)
Keepin’ me
sleepy (…)
Just the
right amount
of ****
Keepin’ me company
Just the
right amount
of talk
In this
small town
Just the
right amount
of heat
& ****
Keepin’ ‘em talkin’.
©2025EllenFinn
Nov 14, 2025
Nov 14, 2025 at 11:48 AM UTC
i still think about her,
the girl across the street,
always humming
to the basket full of laundry
resting on her hips.
in between the notes
the echo sang back:
comparison piece.
hatred simmered in our veins,
each pulse a reminder
of a childhood nearing its end,
until this foolish girl,
skin marked by her shame,
every inch a silent judgement,
became a cautionary tale.
i still think about her,
how her voice vanished,
slipped through the fabric of dusk
and we only caught glimpses
of who she once was —
and sometimes
i wonder who she’s become.
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025 at 10:06 AM UTC
what else are you supposed to do in the suburbs?
find everything abandoned and go there at night?
thrift shop?
idle around the same mall and buy candles, journals, CDs (for your lack of cd player, except in your mom's car)?
see the same movie twice (the fire alarm goes off both times)?
throw wine bottles at pavement and watch the glass splinter?
run around empty ovals?
break into baseball fields?
go to the same public pool and open your eyes underwater?
burn lacy lingerie that you stole from the mall and watch as your femininity sticks, shrivelled, to the pavement?
go to school and get the bus home?
go to work and come home covered in pizza sauce?
hate it till you leave?
what else even is there?
Sep 2, 2024
Sep 2, 2024 at 3:30 AM UTC
here, all the trees are evergreen
steady amidst the bone-deep chill
for only they can pierce the sky
and root so deeply to be unmoved
oh, our beautiful iron maiden
where the gilded spikes stand tall,
steady amidst the suffering
for only they can pierce our hearts
and be unmoved by the screams
Sep 7, 2023
Sep 7, 2023 at 1:46 AM UTC
spilled butane from a refilled lighter
heat lightning in the humid air
cigarette butts in a ***** cupholder
— not sure if this is still your number. part of me hopes it isn’t.
hand-me-down jeans that don’t fit anymore
bleach fume-induced headaches
burnt plastic setting off the fire alarm
— i’m leaving soon. i won’t promise i’ll be back.
overgrown grass from 8 days of rain
singed skin over a candle’s flame
rotting meat at the bottom a trash can
— death doesn’t discriminate. i know that now.
*
Aug 12, 2021
Aug 12, 2021 at 11:43 PM UTC
You were already dead
by the time
I was planted in your soil.
Your story is one told to me
through grainy photographs.
Echoed whispers of
peripheral port cities.
Somewhere lovingly untouchable.
My home was once alive.
My stomach lurches
while picturing these
hollow streets,
once filled with laughter.
The harbour
bursting with smiles.
Each neighbour,
a family or friend,
usually both.
How I love this island!
The salted summer's breeze,
hand woven scarlet autumns.
Wild flowers dancing
atop cliff-sides,
free for us
to admire and absorb.
Absorb we did.
I swear my bones
are made of sea-glass.
How could they be
made of anything less?
In their stories,
you are a fairyland.
A cosmically unified olden wood,
dipped in Scotch
and swaddled in wool.
Yet your branches rot,
thinner and damper each year.
Soon the whispers
will be stale air.
No one will be left
to tell tales
of your beautiful youth.
Everything dies.
How I once wished to see
you in your prime.
Even in your postmortem existence,
you've given me
mud to stick my toes into.
I see you
melting into the sea.
I smell your flesh
being swallowed
by bottom feeders.
You are a wonder to me
all the same.
Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 10:15 AM UTC
In twenty days I will be back in Georgia
and I will feel the cold air pierce through my lungs as I stroll through the streets of downtown Atlanta
I will hear the sound of thick, southern drawls singing country songs by a diminished campfire, releasing the smell of burning leaves and Tennessee whiskey
I will see my grandmamas gaze as she welcomes me home with a *** of steaming Jambalaya and White Diamonds perfume
And my sweet souls will smile at me with their crooked teeth that look like mine
They will approach me with their fast paced walks that move like mine
They will laugh at me with innocence, light, and love
Their simple love
their pure, loyal love
The kind of love that liberates
The kind of love that frees me
from the solitude I hold
So deeply within myself
And I will return to my little apartment
on the eastside of the city
with a memory of enlightenment
With a memory of gratitude
With a memory of grace
To shower you in
To nurture you with
To guide you to
The clear light of day
Dec 17, 2020
Dec 17, 2020 at 1:54 PM UTC
The red stained concrete often intrigued the neighbours, though they unanimously agreed to never bring it up with the Atkinsons.
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 5:22 PM UTC
Two world travelers, one small town
Unfinished people, unfinished house
More thoughts in my head than I should probably say out loud
Sitting there at your kitchen table
Writing backstories for all your neighbors
Talking about the things that we want to be famous for
Funny how I barely know ya
Sitting there in your Patagonia
Envisioning a world with the both of us
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 4:46 PM UTC
Cottonwood the summer snow
Spanish moss on light wind blows
The grass grows fast and life is slow
Lightning bugs our cinema show
Beale Street Memphis and New Orleans
“Are you with the Baptists or Presbyterians?”
Take you for real barbecue
Tiny places I’ve poured my heart into
Family owned coffee shops and downtown streets
Lyrics we scream in crowded backseats
The familiar scent of summer chlorine
Grandmother’s homemade sweet tea
Thick but sweet like honey, a southern accent sings
A porch swing hangs by boots and miscellaneous things
Hydrangea tips and cobbler recipes the women’s book club’s fuss
A piercing pinch from a mother's hand if she ever hears you cuss
Rivers and forests that hold my childhood
Moss soaked in fairies and knighthood
Fishing spots and four wheel drives
Sunset skies the color of your eyes
Run barefoot in tall “feather” grass
“Not-for-nighttime” narrow paths
White washed bricks older than the magnolias
Ladies with pearls, hairspray, and strollers
Football games with roaring joy
It’s an experience that makes you want to join
Red, black and white; 90 degrees
A mid-fall breeze, its nights like these
Spring Green Markets on a freshly cut lawn
Candles and jams and fresh kettle corn
Homecoming and Christmas parades you just can’t miss
Lights strung downtown in the winter
It doesn’t get much better than this...
Sep 3, 2020
Sep 3, 2020 at 3:20 PM UTC
The heat is becoming unbearable.
[average repair cost $488]
I'm manually cranking the window
[1998 Chevy S-10]
While Dad drives me to the store.
I'm craving Nutella
[Great Value Hazelnut Spread]
And pomegranates seeds.
[only one container without mold]
I hope Mom doesn't mind the price.
Turning 22 this year;
[also a model from 1998]
I hope to start on Testosterone
[again]
And maybe learn to drive
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 11:40 AM UTC
you say the cost of living keeps rising so people keep dying.
if that's true, then why should we bother trying?
growing up in small town usa,
the only opportunities for work are dangerous
and offer very little pay.
if you dont have thick skin,
you won't be able to make it through the day.
I need you to say that you believe I have a choice.
that you think people will listen to what i have to say
if i raise my voice.
I don't want to leave, but i know i can't stay.
if i want a chance to live, i'll need to live life my way
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 11:39 AM UTC
I'm not here for the silver and gold.
I am here to find somebody to hold.
Someone to wrap their arms around me tight
And make me forget it's a cold winter night.
It's been ten years since you stole my heart.
Now look where we are.
We've come so far from the start.
As you lie with me, watching the fire glow,
I still can't believe I'm the one that you chose.
We were friends in a small town,
Then we became something more.
I can't believe i never knew it was you I was waiting for.
We were friends in a small town,
Then you said "I do."
Because of you, I believe that dreams can come true.
Mar 5, 2020
Mar 5, 2020 at 8:13 PM UTC
have you ever looked
at a house and felt
a crippling pain that
you couldn’t go in it?
i have
every day i see my own
front porch
and every day i see the house
still in someone else’s name
but not for much longer
the first hurt is raw
ripping and searing
through my heart
and running into hot
cinnamon fire tears
burning my cheeks
the second hurt is dull
stinging like a
badly sharpened knife
over skin or knowing
what your birthday
present is but having
to wait while not
letting on you know
i grew accustomed to
the custom of becoming
myself in this house
but the walls i grew up in
grew inward too tightly
around me to choke me
and still i have
a pillow to bury my
face in at night
a shower to wash off
the day dust
a kitchen to stand in
when i’m feeling
a bit lost
but lost is the only
feeling i have
when i’m here
in this house
i don’t live here
anymore
i live on my feet
behind counters
through the parking lot
and up the sidewalk
slipping in before
the sun is up
and dragging out
when others are in bed
feeling small
on a dull afternoon
when i can only curl
up on the couch
to think
and wait
time in between
that’s now
time between shifts
and time between living
in my house
and finding my home
it’s not so much
the waiting game
it’s the feeling
that i’m alone
that nobody
wants me
so close and
yet so far
almost there
but stuck here
just keep
the worn floors clean
music playing
and make sure
the janky old doors
are locked at night
this is my town
this is my home now
this town will take
care of me
as i’m wandering through it
halfway homeless
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 10:17 PM UTC
Why I am drowning
Because I am letting me drown,
Why I am going into depression
Because I am letting me go in the depression
Why I am living in hell
Because I am letting myself to
live in the hell.
Everything is happening because
"I am letting"so it happens with me."
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 3:36 AM UTC
oh the joys of idyllic
small town life in this
whitewashed village where
everyone knows everyone
and everyone knows
everyone’s business
where the groceries are
overpriced and the taxes
are high and everyone but
the wife knows he’s cheating
where everything is a scandal
and nobody will admit to knowing
anything but they’ll still talk
about it behind closed doors
there are supposedly prostitutes
on main street but i only ever see
the drunk and drugged out there
and if someone is single there is
someone determined
to find them a match
all and all a very pleasant
charming life we lead here
what with all the arrests
and the highway department
yammering away on things
and the way the tops of the semis
scrape the bottom of the
traffic lights on their way though
something charming about
the way the sides of the buildings
all need a good power washing
and there’s probably lots of
good clean arsenic in
the water supply
scenic
a most sleepy
little burg
they say
spend some time
with us and
you’ll find a community
you’ll find a home
you’ll also
find a thing or two
you’ll wish
you didn’t know
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 9:05 PM UTC
Hello Pop,
You said you liked a good story.
I'm no good at tellen stories, coz you were always the one that told'em and I was always the one that listened but,
I got one now.
Not a nice one.
None'a that feel good **** you see on TV.
But, it's a story
and I owe you one.
It's about you,
the bits you missed,
and me:
the not so good for a so called 'good kid'.
Not that many called me that
But,
then you went and did.
Made me think I couldn't be so bad.
Yet here I am.
Throwin stone's when I've got no one to hit.
Too bored to eat or sleep, just fucken spit.
Wishen that great god gave me someone to hit.
I'm a sick girl, ya know.
That's what they tell me.
Sick compared to those straight kids -
the pride of Glory Spring.
"Glory to God!" they all fucken sing
and even me who can’t speak good
can still recite that invisible,
unbearable
ditsy
dimpled
****
He was your favourite story and everyone elses, after all.
Vicar Roy made sure of that.
Vicar Roy.
With his crinkly eyes
his toothy grin
the way he wouldn't blink when you challenged him.
God while god was hiding from the mess he made,
but God was doin’ nothen for me.
Ma saw that before you could.
She wanted me out,
She wanted me taken to a real city so they could study my head,
the way it worked.
The way my words never came
just a crooked grin.
But, even when the crayons became weapons
and the kittens went missen
The Vicar went and blessed me the same way.
Glory Spring, with its neat little rows of cottages and cabbage gardens,
so evenly cut.
Soft colours,
bright greens.
So good,
good,
good.
Then I came along.
Rabid,
urban wild
itchen for a stomach slit
goin' "Guts for you"
after "Treat or trick?"
setten haystacks on fire
tryen to find the pin
only to drop it on purpose.
Are you scared of me, Pa?
I think even God is scared of what he created.
That's why we never see him,
but I'm here now Pa.
You can't hide from me
and I gotta story of why you don't gotta no more.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
“Fore!”
I live in a small town,
With the lights down,
In the back end of nowhere
And that is exactly where I am going.
I dress like a big clown,
In my small car.
My head looks through the sunroof
And all I can see is a city of stars.
I have spent a lifetime pretending,
That I am going to leave this place.
Everybody can see that I don’t really care.
My apathy only hides my truth; my life is such a waste.
As the rain drops fall onto my window,
I hear the distant memories.
They are calling to me like angels;
I can’t see where they are, but they are all around me.
So I reach out with one big shout!
Begging for protection, from myself.
My remedy is not seen, so I sink into a hole.
If I could find a way out,
I would find a way to make something of myself.
A collage of emotional scars,
That show that I have come so far.
The pavement my driveway,
I turn left into yesterday
And all I remember is the loss of it all;
The things we do are what we are.
I walk on the freeway.
The grass is green beneath my feet…
They shout “Fore!”…
My headphones do not rescue me.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 12:34 PM UTC
summertime blues are rolling around
swinging and dancing in the breeze
before it's too late get out of this town
get out while you still have dreams
she quickly gathered all of her things
she made sure to clean up the mess
if only he hadn't kept the other ring
then he wouldn't have a hole in his chest
they say that nothing is ever new around
that every day is just as the last
but this is not just any quiet town
secrets lie in the dark shadows cast
summertime blues are rushing in
don’t let them sweep you off your feet
say goodbye to your innocence
say goodbye to your dreams
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC
the day starts with shirley
who comes in just after eight
for her 20oz chai
"what kind of milk?"
"doesn't matter"
punches her own coffee card
tells me about her puppy
kayla is next her hair and
makeup always perfect
about as nice a landlady as
one can have in a town like this
from there it's a constant
stream of people
who i watch out for and
who don't know i'm doing it
janice lives alone and thinks
people are stealing her money
doesn't understand
the tests her doctors want
she can't remember
what she always orders
it's a turkey club sandwich no bacon
on toasted oatmeal regular chips no pickle
a to go box for the leftovers
and some kind of chocolate treat in a bag
because she only eats when
she comes in here
two weeks ago
i accidentally switched
barb's 12oz soy chai
with someone else's
12oz whole milk chai
it wasn't enough dairy
to give her a problem
in fact she didn't seem
to remember it
but i made her another for free
nic stopped for his afternoon coffee
didn't laugh at anything just stared
blankly into space and said he
thought he was getting sick
had too many things to finish
the day before when i was waving
to him from the parking lot
so i took my dog to the
back door of his office and
we barked until he came out
patted us both on the head
and said he felt better
we're all creatures of habit
like mckenna who arrives
like clockwork
between one thirty and two
tuesday through saturday
leans on my bake case while
i count my tips and add random
ingredients to different drinks
in a reckless attempt
to break up the monotony
and he drinks them all
like clockwork
no matter how bad they are
rita doesn't smile since she broke her hip
in fact i haven't seen her since
walt got sick and he and joan
moved upstate to be closer to their son
i worry about something happening to ray
who will take care of rita?
whose laugh used to echo off the walls
and fill the place up
pat's smoking again and it turns out
he has congenital heart failure
gail had a fall, a stroke and
suddenly died
i make the same dumb jokes
only a few people smile at
i sing to myself
and people point it out
karen sits in her motorized wheelchair
ice and snow dripping from the wheels
onto the scratched, muddy floor
and tells me i'm pretty and funny
and have a beautiful voice and
i look at karen, her head tilted to
the side and spit hanging from her
buck teeth and wonder why such a
wonderful funny girl with a heart of gold
had to have the body she's stuck in
why life is ****
and why i'm trying
i swear i'm trying
fighting
for something
i don't know what
why we fight
why we try
to make the world
a better place
when nothing can really change
any of these dismal facts
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
He said to me
I'm gonna get outta here
Check out a different sphere
Of reality
Unless I meet
One of those county girls
Who wants to stay in this county world
And raise a family
Well that got me thinkin'
About all of the small town life
Everywhere there just seems to be a fight
To not get stuck.
You know I've been thinkin'
Bout all of these choices
Bout all of these voices asking me
Where I'll end up
The more I stay
The more I find
My piece of peace of mind
Comes and goes like waves
In this
Tidal Town.
|b.g.|
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
unknown people
unknown minds
known hearts
It was neither the people
Nor the small cafe’s
In this small town
Which made me
Feel like
Home.
One step in this dreamy
Place, with hundreds of
Trees all around
And uncanny spots.
The city couldn’t
Hold me in her
Huge arms,
So I stepped back
And came here.
The regular diners,
The same faces everyday,
Gossip flowing like wind
In autumn,
But it felt more and more
Like I was meant for it
Because the hearts of people
In this small town
Were still painted red,
Not black with a tint of grey,
Like city people.
It was neither the people
Nor the small cafe’s
In this small town
Which made me
Feel like
Home.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 9:14 AM UTC