Zulu in the Middle

At last, after you’ve circled the county roads,
through New Haven, Woodburn, and Monroeville,
you coast into this town tucked in the middle.

The place with a one sign turn off from the
Highway and a new chip’ n seal road because
they couldn’t bother to repave it.

A place named after an Indian tribe,
but only the residents know that. Where
houses are surrounded by farmers’ fields
trapping them on the inside. The smell
of manure and the noise of tractors at
night are normal occurrences

A place where no secret is safe, because
everyone knows. Like how the only bar now
turned restaurant has had three different owners
in the past year. Where everyone’s kids have gone
to the same private school and walked to the gym building
across the parking lot in the rain.

Believe in this place, that it’s young will grow to love it
and not want to go away. But to stay. Home

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