Consequently they are fine, happy even,
We walk these Andalusian streets
The world is a lonely place
The road has a stolid memory
We came up all squeaky and clean
In the middle of the cornfields
In a flyover state
We loved Jesus and our neighbor
Though we didn’t always trust
We are masters of the slow burn
What if we lived
As if we believed
Our shared experiences
Are stronger than our differences
When I read about quasars
I pocket my maculinity like a charm
No one writes poetry
About Iron Man
Or Spider-man or even Wonder Woman
Like somewhere along the way
All of the artist held a forum to
