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sleepy little town
on the edge of the prairie which once was nearly shoulder high with buffalo grass how is it come to pass you are becoming like all the others growing pains and growing plans moving out and moving on of people your city planners have decided on their New Utopia one in which the players and the stayers do not look like you they've staked their claim on a corner block building a luxury high rise full of shops who will come or is it solely for the new residents swank enough for crowned presidents replacing the community farmer's market and the public minstrel shows a 17-story towering symbol of the lifestyles of the always reposed an oddity of curiosity rising up like a colossus' thumb while down the street the low-rent high rise will be razed or re-purposed in order to be reused to be sanctimoniously given back to those who are not useless eaters and have paid their dues the star-eyed city planners haven't planned on where to stick these people relocation isn't in their plans sleepy city on the prairie where once buffalo grass grew tall and gathered around ambitious and pernicious to no longer be that little town even city planners of big and bigger cities are mandated to include and to see the littler ants who live there and to consider their needs their rights and their pursuit of liberty when you pushed out all the Natives and slaughtered the buffalo then planted your acreages of hearty Durham wheat and watched it multiply and grow did you think the riches gained here would make you one day the elite a master trampler over the land and peoples you would defeat and now you've moved onto other projects other crowns to transform the Cinderella-sleepy little community into your palace from a simple little border prairie town. LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 6/5/2020 1:17pm PST TIME/DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/AUTHOR/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED POETRY SITE TITLE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD Vote for this poem |
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