Everyone knows what my name is
In this little **** town
And I'd really like to give them
More to talk about
The drop outs
The tattoos
The break-ups
And the people-making-excuses-for-me-just-because-my-mom-died
Will never be enough
Gossip
So here goes
Every barn from Freeburg to Smithton
Up in smoke
No more kindling left to burn
In the middle of the night
And here goes
Every corn field
All the sorghum
All the wheat mowed
Cut down before its prime
Grain-based livelihoods
Grain-based lives
Gone.
And here's to all the old-timers
With their shot guns out
Sitting on the porch
Here's to all the life savings
All the small town banks
I'm about to knock down
Here's to cops who are
Terrible shots
And here's to getting out
Freeburg Famous
My name on everybody's lips
Giving the lifers
Something real to talk about

In the fall there were two of them. Wild animals, I mean. New driver's licenses of shiny, longways plastic and long limbs that hadn't filled out yet. She was filling out her Freeburg High School T-shirt pretty well he thought. He was taking it off her innocent body in the parking lot. After the lights at the football field shut off and she kept drawing monstrous hearts on the fogged up windows in the back seat of a car it was almost as if she could let it all go. Hardly thinking about him at all as his hand slid under her waistband and she woke up as he was fumbling with a ****** wrapper. How awkward, she thought, to be a teenage boy with a ***** how tragic, not knowing how to handle a latex balloon when you have it. Like the Hindenburg, she thought we're both going to die some day so it might as well be an explosion and I might as well put on a show for it. She could feel his heart beat in his ***** the way that nobody talks about it and she laughed a little at their nakedness and it was tinny in the climate of their hot breath. I love you, she said.

As if it would change anything anyway.