Indianapolis

a once promising sight of

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.

Indianapolis

A standing fury of cold steel and broken asphalt

weighing on her spider webbed society

Angry, cold, and poor.

Where poppies grow along the street

raised on a steady diet of frozen waste and cheap wine

filtered through the stained jeans of weathered denizens.

Indianapolis

Where the elderly shake withered fists

stained with rum-washed memories of America’s heartland-

now just another notch in her rustbelt.

–––– Jonathan Renfield