nixa, missouri
everyone here was born somewhere
else, in a different country,
even if that place was named
the same as this one. it is changed
now. the horizon much more crowded
than you last remember. the suburbs
huddle nearer each year. bunch
in overplanted crops that bear diminishing
yields. the future is shrinking. salt ruins
more soil out by the coasts every day.
I approach the town I grew up in
from two angles. it is never the same
twice. and never changes.
you can’t go home again, no
shit. but, remember this, neither
can you ever leave.
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