The Suburbs (1/27/11)

Invinsible lawns and misty trees
sparkle at dawn.
Tangerine leaves grace
hoods of cars and
tops of mailboxes.

Each cup of hot Foldgers coffee
creates the aroma of
security and commercial comfort.
Vacant sidestreets aren’t quite ready
for the bursts of morning traffic.

Soon, schoolchildren will walk
down the road, blankets of
middle income and
white neighbors
keep them warm.

On the back porch,
I can hear a train
speeding through.
It doesn’t stop here,
we are just a little black dot
on the map,
short miles from the
big circle
everyone dreams of.

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