Fragments on Juneteenth,

the Monday federal holiday 

Town hall is open

the federal highway sign is leaning out

at a bit of an angle

the sheriffs deputy

waiting at the light

Bob Dylan’s harmonica

from 50 years ago still playing

still on the radio

fried fish but it ain’t even Friday

the smell of diesel and gear oil

clean corn for sale

corn for deer but no

fresh shelled peas

or tomatoes worth eating

the spring is still cold

and deep

but today is a workday

for some of us

for me

the smell of cedar

everywhere in the air

but I think the little boy

he never made it home

I saw the hole in his head

logging trucks

and the highway patrol

with his scales.

Rock of ages

and Jesus up on

the old rugged cross

and Jesus it’s hot

and the railroad gates

don’t seem to want to close

the logging trucks

make illegal turns

and drive too fast

because they work

for the man who owns this town

Flying past beautiful campus

the canopy trees

the wrought iron gate

it’s not a college

and it’s not a factory

well it is kind a factory

where it produces ex felons

they’re our number one crop

used to be tobacco

and there’s still plenty of corn

and watermelon and hay

and pine straw

now it’s more pine straw

except most of all

its ex felons

and the vultures

right on the water tower

and the bell tower sits

in the parking lot

waiting to be reinstalled

I like the bell

and the bell tower

but it was leaning

and they were afraid

it was going to fall

so the state allocated

thousands and thousands

of dollars to replace it

money that probably

should’ve been spent

on books and nutritious food

for the poor kids in town