Free of Small Town America

At the end of everything
a streetlamp goes out
and Narnia darkens.

The grass around the streetlamp
remains green for a time
until it browns and withers.

That is if everything is real.

If it is of the imagination
it will spring back to life
pretty much as it departed.

I cupped a cricket in my hands then let it go.

I gave up TV for miniature toy soldiers
where wars take place
on a scenic table top.

It is the closest I will come
to being god
as I shape the scenery

placing trees one by one into woods

micro managing
which pasture a couple of cows graze
and how loud

the war will be this time.

Necessity

Paul pulled his imperfections
outside of himself
and lined them up
like toy soldiers for inspection.

It took all morning
as his imperfections
were not a handful of issues
equal to a squad of ten

but more like an entire corp
somewhere between
twenty and forty-five thousand
rank and file.

He was surprised
when he realized
his well organized imperfections
had support units and a supply chain

with something akin
to a military industrial complex
to lobby for them
state side in his cellular democracy.

Now that his imperfections
were outside of him
Paul looked in the mirror
and noticed he mostly was not there.

One by one he picked up
all of his toy soldier imperfections
and put them back
to their proper places.

The pandemic
forces me to creative projects.

I think I will build
a nondenominational altar.

Lord knows individuals
speak a thousand prayers per day.

Lord knows we need
to be saved from our own foolishness.

The altar does not mind
if children bring in playful hands

their dolls or toy soldiers
to the prayer sessions.

The altar has a basin
designed to collect people’s tears.

It does not matter
if your eyes are open or closed.

The basin does not make the tears holy.
That occurs during the act of crying.