My Hometown

Smells like fresh cut grass in the morning,
and Mexican sweat; because they are too lazy to do it ourselves.
Looks clean and free of drugged out crazies on the streets,
they lock themselves in their homes
and take prescriptions before soccer practice lets out.
Gunshots howl from the speakers of a 42” television,
not through the front door over huddled crying children.
Three cars sit out front, not of an apartment complex,
but of the home of a lonely man.
The bus only makes three stops a day,
next to the IHOP, Denny’s and Walmart,
to drop off numbers on paychecks.
The grocery store is less than a mile away,
so he takes his SUV for a six pack of beer.
The green and white caffeine goddess sits hungrily on every corner,
across from the gas machines and cigarette vendors.
Teachers preach abstinence only education
with three pregnant girls in their class, under the age of 16.
Pee-wee football players with grass stained pants
are taught to hate their opponents and win at all costs.
Beer bellies burst buttons
on expensive looking cowboy shirts.
Children swallow bottles of pills for
medication, recreation, annihilation.

I ran away.