the storm took down some trees earlier.
the whole town looks like a wasteland.
just past albert street
there’s a silver van on the side of the road,
turned over on its right side,
covered in gashes and dents and mud,
unmoving on the front lawn of an old man’s home.
broken glass and metal scattered on asphalt.
an old crying man being questioned.
a cop speaking through gnashing teeth.
i see it only for a moment as i pass by.
i don’t slow down.
it’s a story i will only ever know the middle of.
i know i told you that it made me kind of sick, but
i think i like the town like this.
it feels honest, it
feels like home