Landfill Love Stories

It's drive time in the valley.
low heat simmer.
long exhale, in deep thought.
I watch them,
the strangers in peril.
good for them.

Time off.
Time alone.
The moon howlers love chants.
The swelling crowd of lunatics
pacing our narrow streets.
I like to watch them on weekdays
from up above.
The view from the holy mountain;
constructed of skulls and Styrofoam.
A billion light bulbs hum
above the tree line;
just below gods great black out.
Pleas of the common folk
rise from bedrooms and are lost with the dust.
No answers for the hungry deadbeats
and the pride swallowing sore throats.

The rivers and streams
are the only ones to leave town.
We'll stay here to bicker and rust:
stubborn ghost kings on splintering thrones.
We smile with cracked lips.
We pay bills with borrowed money, and pocket lint.
We board up the windows when the hardships amass.
That's not a hole in the side of the earth;
it's our starving but grateful town.
Come look for us under the heaps
of burning tires and crushed furniture.
We'll welcome you, and teach you our ways.
It's so easy to fall in love
when you have nothing.