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POEM OF THE MONTH, November 2005 |
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Written by Joe Benevento
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Monday, 31 October 2005 |
Yankees in East Texas
Beaumont smells like the pursuit of
riches, when the wind blows right
you can sense confesions of hundreds
of corporate crimes, refined not
a bot more than the petroleum we
won't mind having at the cheapest
pssobile rates. This constant
reminder, clinging to the not-visisble
air, pollutes every-day thinking:
like the local advertisement for birth
control where the grown-up convinces
the teen not to get his girl
pregnant so he own't have a life-
time of earnings garnished,
or the Cehvron foreman
confessing his cahgrin
over being unable to prevent
a chemical leak at the plant,
his embarrassment springing
from all the money he
cost the company.
The gulf of Mexico tries
to wash away all these sins,
pounds benedictions on the sandy
shores; alligators and lobster-
like crayfish thrive in the ditches
and backwaters; fire ants build
elaborate mounds of biting
pain that dare you step
on them. Young waitresses
at local restaurants laugh
at northeastern humor and accents,
imply that New Jersey and Connecticut
crimes are just as foul, though we
assurem them with our superior
smiles we at least seem
upset when reefuse fouls our beaches,
colors our air, and we insist
our smells be less
honest, less certainly like
the aroma of cash money down.
(from Red, White and Blues: Poets on the Promoise of America, 2004)
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