Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Green Lights

by Sarah Estime

people in the city i can't stand.
people in the city don't live in reality.
they live this pretend life where
they're the kings of themselves,
telling people how to dress
and how to act
in order for them
to be a part
of their royal lives.

how gracious it would be to be divine.
to be
surrounded by the rad individuals who create.
they're loud,
they're vibrant,
they're each needles in the hay like an ugly duckling in a pond;
a black sheep chomping in the graze.

they're egotistical
and their lives are prompts prompting them to brag.
a roster far from mediocrity.
a life of wine and champagne and design and things.


and, meanwhile, there's a woman who's staring at the stars;
who's soaking in the beauty of mud and cement and tar.
she's in a floral dress and she pats her hay hat down
she’s inhaling the oak and she’s smelling in the sounds
and there’s an ant and she notices and she frowns.

it’s the needle in the field, pressed hard in the dirt between the grass,
far from where it might know best
because the countryside is lost and tormented.

and she doesn’t know what to do as crickets harass her to relax.
she can’t think of anything more than what she has.

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