Omaha

Grandma’s yellow raincoat makes me eerie
like a liquor woman undercover
like the man who waves back follow the leader.

I want to hear the ocean boom from the belfry,
a sonorous bell singing nine p.m.

The town fell dark before I arrived
so I forgot to fear the men
this city gave me
new air, wet tires

My hometown shadow scales the tower
I play the old game, follow the leader.
The belfry plays nine thirty.

 

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