a once promising sight for
freedom, industry, and corn.
The fastest city in the western hemisphere-
Where men from all walks could aspire
to drive in five hundred circles,
chasing the emphatic roar of beer-blooded all-Americans.
A standing fury of cold steel and broken asphalt
weighing on her spider webbed society
Angry, cold, and poor.
Window bars beneath reaching ivy tentacles choke derelict buildings,
raised on a steady diet of frozen waste and cheap wine
filtered through the stained jeans of weathered denizens.
Where the elderly shake withered fists
stained with rum-washed memories of America’s heartland-
now just another notch in her rustbelt.
–––– Jonathan Renfield