stange road.

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They are building
a new city to
replace this one;
they are building a city
that runs for three blocks
and ends in an empty field.

Every morning at
six am
the construction
sounds start
out my window and up
my street and
I am awake
to hear them.

They are building a city
that doesn't belong here,
something sinister
and it frightens me.

"You can't just
roll up and build an entire
city in the middle of
a collegiate, suburban
town," you said.

"It's city city city
cornfield," I said.

Every morning they've built
a new bar, a new upscale shop
to take over our
fashion and tell us what's
beautiful and how to
get drunk.

The new city is a siren,
beckoning me to
lose my soul,
grow up and become
complacent. I know;
I can hear them
from the window.

Soon I'll crash my ship
into the rocks.

Created: May 06, 2010

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katekaos Document Media