On the front of our temporary home
is an outline of Texas done in barbed wire
It was made by our neighbor /who also strung up
the lights for a small town Hall
We are still village here-we know who you are
Hard as wire,thin as a fence border
Sometimes we run wild /stampede
sometimes we just digest grass
Time is dust here.Forever a story
of a neighbor who left in a scandal
when the heat got too close
and his deeds were on the wire
You can get born again/home again/reborn and killed again
like weeds that arise@a Bar-B -Q
or a child wild as Spring.Stories are tall tales here
depicted in cinematic gossip.No secrets last long-
every skin exposed eventually..Presidents,homeless,businessmen/women
spaced programmed,blessed,cursed,sacred and profane-
Texas is a range of shooting stars.
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