This town

this town is soggy

clouds die on the curb

girls get self-conscious
and duck into CVS

everyone is immortalized in a boring paragraph

Thomas walks in the snow. His feet are cold

God gives Seth a sign and baptizes his blog
his poems are erased, and he starts over

Irene and Betsy wait at the golf course. One is dressed inappropriately.

If the writing is too wild, each sentence is on fire
each phrase is spiky and activated and too fascinating
Smith girls put the book down to take a spiritual pause

Jefferson started a secret blog, one where he could keep his real feelings.
The blog was a baby, was brand new, was blank and gurgling

the writers have a reading every night for two weeks
they are the audience and on stage at the same time
they read in the sandwich shop and the sandwiches droop

Irene looked for a new blog. One where there would be truth, and it would be ruthless. There would be art that was not for sale.

Jefferson writes, my window is Nature's blog, it is always updating, its visitors- some don't have eyes, some crawl on grass, the neighbor's dog eats snow

I started seeing a taxi in this town
it was a blue van like from a dream
it went into this town
and left this town
but you couldn't call it up

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