seguin

it’s unfair
to judge a land
in the south
by its winters
countenance

it all goes flat
ugly tones of brown
gone the verdant fields
the lazily swaying leaves
as if all hope
has been bled
from the soul of the land

upon entering
the lovely town
with a lazy river
willows weeping into
the slow moving
blackish waves
it could be any
town in the middle of
corn country illinois
an immediate feeling
of connection bloomed
as i took the long way
around the town square
imagining growing up
in a photo negative
of this very place
minus the spanish flair
to the architecture

i felt a tension
drain away
that ghostly familiarity
sepia tones at the edge
of my hungry vision
a sign at the dairy queen
proclaimed it to be
chicken strips country
i guess i can’t argue
the facts behind it

i strolled the square
less a tourist than a
transcendental illusion
walking in two places
but in neither
out of time with ny mind
in a sleepy slice of nothing
the locals pronounce suh geen

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