I miss those little gas stations
That have snack bars out in the country,
With a couple of tables in the back,
Where you can sit and cool off
While you drink your tea.
You can talk to a friend while your sweat dries.
You can sit there and wait to go back out at dusk,
Because you know you got about
Three more hours still before the sunsets,
To get that hay baled.

Up here, the spare space at the gas station
Is leased to a guy who sits in the corner
And makes approved bank loans,
Or payday loans,
Where they sign you up
To take your plasma first thing Monday morning,
Just so you can pay the piper.

And all this Coastal Bermuda grass
That grows beside the sidewalk
That runs all along the side of the ditch,
It gets mowed, but it
Just goes to waste,
Laying there till the wind blows it away,
Or until it's bagged up and sent off to the city dump to rot.

Makes me feel like I'm drying up,
To live here in the city,
To be mowed down like yesterday's news,
Thrown out with the lawn clippings.

At least back home if somebody takes a tumble for the worse,
You know there'll  be some people sitting at snack bar talking about you.

-jenn