Carrie Nation (or How I Became An Interesting Girl)

 I don't like it either, sometimes,

but there it is, like a cop 

parked behind a billboard

or

a funnel blowing the barn apart.

Now here's this guy,

He needs a drink before he spits it out,

termites working in every smile,

his suit already pooling in the chair.

And now I'm the one, the home town

you can never go back to.

"You've changed," is usually spoken with that face one saves

for finding out your sports hero shoots skag

or the sweet old lady next door has renters under the floor.

Rivers flow,

rats run up the pole.

Clocks tick,

clouds form and blow.

Carrie Nation knew it was true,

as Lizzie B. did, too,

that the most interesting person in the room

is always the one swinging the axe.

_______

for Sunday Muse #185.