Rural Virginia Poem
By Jeffrey Quattlebaum
Come on in
We’re all friends
In this
We can understand
Each other
We can see
It all
Did you bring any money?
Everything
Is on the house
The tartar
The numbing
The disease the rehearsing
The whole nine yards
But where do we meet?
In the boat house
Or the inlet’s edge?
We’ll meet in the marsh
And welcome
The mosquito kiss
In a camaro
Steering into
A icy skid
In a yet to be
Subdivision
His eyes blurry
And discovering
Something he was needing
There were no houses
Only plans
In a pasture
With a cul-de-sac
And joints
And pretty girls
All wanted to ditch
And find a man
Rub their eyes
Through the windshield
It was seven a.m.
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