Who’s Gonna’ Pay For This?

The circus

Left town

Crepe paper promises

Lay tattered and torn

Last corn dog eaten

My way, highway folks

Disappeared down expressways

Disagreement equaled excuses

In their monochromatic minds

Somebody won, somebody lost

Couldn’t lose what you didn’t have

Those with the least

Gave the most




Summer’s winding down

Local schools open soon

Europeans went on holiday every August

Why couldn’t Americans do the same thing?

Walt’s “Gasateria”–garish blue-and-white sign

Admonished passers-by

“Turn around–you almost missed it”

Down the road–a magnificent, white

Two-story home with wrap-around porch

Shaded by tall pines, draped with Spanish moss

Ms. Lulabelle Wiggin’s Bed-and-Breakfast welcomed visitors

Some claimed to not like Southern culture

Yet, they never hesitated when it came to

Pecan pies, peach cobbler, tasty barbecue, pulled pork

Their ample Yankee behinds–seemed

To like her front-porch rocking chairs

Working for other people–especially rich ones

Was quite tedious at times

Her spirit was never broken

Even though–she had plenty to say

Too many people went for cheap shots

They fizzled–then, they were done

Maybe they were so afraid of failure, they never tried?


Passions rose

Then receded

Punched the numbers

Punched them up

Scene stealers

House mom hated

Fires of fear

Sting of tears

Gift horses

Glass houses

From those that

Never lose

Daily body counts

Boarded up business

Accepted as normal

By unknown historians

Chili mac–paddy whack


Hic ad hoc–tick tock

Went the why nots