Saskia

16

Less a town and more a floodplain
grasses, sheds, telephone poles
mired in scratchy sea.
Air stale and punched
by a lawn mower turning
on and off droning,
edging the corners
of faded billboards,
stagnant dreams.

It’s worst to realize
America’s model,
its constant across fields and states.
Go West! shout printed colors whistling,
round faces in the dust aspire
this universe with no perspective
no one cares enough to change.