Dull Midwestern

I

I am of cornfields and abandoned barns

I bleed Husker red on Saturdays

and inject lattes from The Mill by Sunday morning.

I am from quiet family dinners sat around the Royals game on TV.

I drive gravel roads. I whiff moonshine,

it burns my nostrils.

I stay out late to lay in the grass

and stare at the stars until two

crisp air under my nose.

I am blonde with my German roots

shining through my cheekbone and brow.

I am slow Sundays that roll

into raw Mondays that crack my skull

because schedules are pressing

me back into my monotonous

repetitive agenda

but I just want to write.

The soft Midwest is cooling wax

next to the electric pace

of the east coast.

II

I am surrounded by Greek letters

who drink bourbon like

their blood won’t keep flowing without it

I am surrounded by thick accents

that I can’t take seriously

it’s theatrical.

I am surrounded by free spirits

studying philosophy and literature

so intelligent with no hope.

I confine myself to four light blue walls

melting into my bed each night

concocting

tales to tell

secrets to hide

people to create

on a slice of film

for the world to drink in on Fridays.

My dim personality

cannot compete with the Yanks.

I am velvet next to Velcro

they are fire

I am a cool breeze.

I am delicate, porcelain skin

they a raging sunburn

and I cannot

will not

statistically shouldn’t

logically could

possibly

but probably won’t

win.

III

Absorb the desire

into my lungs

take a deep breath

swallow my anxieties

and spit out fresh patterns and colors

and shout at the flowers

and sing to the water.

I will jump higher

kick rocks farther

stretch my loins and scream.

I will embrace the poetic contrast

of my small wrists

and broad shoulders,

and write until my heart says no.

Whatever it is

inside of my skull

weaving new verbs and nouns

together like yarn,

is stitching a harmonious ego.

I lust for new plots

bright scenes

cool views,

and I feel alive.

Painting the world around me

with pastel metaphors

buys my curiosity fresh daisies

and I feel alive.

Cut me geometrics

from colored construction paper.

I feel alive.

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