Statues missing arms and heads
guard the city hall.
Empty flagpoles mark the yards.
The streets are worn-down
promises. In the alleys
spray-paint walls point hate
at homeless waifs that drift
through Nothingtown.

Monday traces duty down
avenues to work.
Four faceless frames follow ‘til
Friday evening’s spark
of hope and drink. Cinema
flickers pictures over
foreheads dark from getting by.
Oh, Nothingtown.

Blowing grit corrodes the ball fields.
People spit and scream
to beat the Othertown team
in the arena.
Dogs fight for fence, protecting
little properties.
Hope endures a yearly pruning
in Nothingtown.

Hospital elevator
moves through gasping quiet,
while out past the old hotel
waiting graves are set.
Immigrants, outsiders, children,
once the future’s bloom.
Sunday’s bell tolls traffic jams
as people crowd to plead
for Nothingtown.


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