Michael Hoerman

What the Welcome-to-Our-Town Billboard Didnít Tell You 

God help you, stranger,
Left to your own devices.  

Maybe a get the hell out, maybe a broken tooth.
With the moon shimmering in that haze
Itíll be hard to tell a bad drunk from heatstroke. 

Oh yeah, the church-on-Sunday penitentsó
Thatís another story. But not now.
Thereíll be time and little else. 

Hereís the secret, friend.  

Go up the mountain, tell your troubles
To the first man you meet.
Thereís motive. 

Now, down on your knees begging to get out.
Thatís opportunity. 

As for means,  

The tourists think itís so quaintó
An entire town
Walking around with clean hands.


 

 

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