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Poetry Pleases: Delta Town

Randal Looney's poem distils the essence of a small dreary town in the Mississippi Delta.

Late-night and you're asleep now
but you were awake in the sun
shouting, crying, and flashing your news
spilling your blood, it flows southward
toward the outlet of your wicked bowels
where you digest the minions of your arrant culture
cutting through the softness of your billowy heart
the machine moves coolly through filthy water
splashing up to freeze on winter sidewalks
passing your gray and brown buildings
dotted and speckled with brillant colors
displaying your toolkit
used for sensory and physical control
your veins are branching Main Streets
one for us and one for them
your skin is a matrix of depression
freckled with laconic religious fervor
a vehicle for counterfeit wit
a tunnel of poorly concealed hypocrisy
mingling too close to alcoholic abandon
and lower class cavorting
juvenille in action yet wise in direction
irony in the proudenss of your bigoted bonds
your image fades in my rear-view mirror
as I travel on to the next one
your twin in nature
yet different in name


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