Longview from the State that Brings You Jeff Sessions


We are a small town stoked by
limitless global horizon. Mercedes
factors us into plans. Humans divide
into similar angles. Paper planes
fold the same in any hovel.

I light a candle for my mother.
A flame becomes a space
fingers move through. A face
becomes fear of not moving
faster. The wreaths on all
doors say welcome.

Doormats lie about lives
inside. A house is nothing
true, a brick can’t be earnest.
Fox News owns the place
I leave. Two kids on the couch
missing hopscotch.