cole ave

walking down to the liquor store

i see a boy, about 10,

lining up budweiser cans from his recycling

on his porch railing

because he's tired of sledding,

and he's got his hands on a pellet gun.

pops and crunches and soft snow sounds

pepper the air and it's grey out

on february 24, while i'm

walking down to the liquor store

i see two art kids, carrying brown bags,

the kind that already graduated college,

and probably think it's real and gritty

to live in small town, ma.

small town, ma is only gritty because of

the sand for the roads and the salt for the ice,

only real because it's not plastic.

small town, ma is more broken down,

rotted out, abandoned, tired, and grey,

on february 24th, as i'm

walking down to the liquor store.

winter grime lines the street

and sidewalk, and the houses are missing panelling,

and a car is parked in a yard barely visible

under all the snow, and there is no sun

and there are no clouds. just grey sky,

grey snow, grey roads, grey ice,

as i'm

walking down to the liquor store,

on cole avenue,

in small town, ma