In his truck, he always keeps

a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread

a sets of wrenches

a small pistol

a police-grade flashlight

a box of granola bars

a phone charger

a blanket

a pair of work boots

.

Just in case, you know.

Tomorrow is my first last day of classes

everyone else is starting to feel sad

I think I’ll miss the silent things the most

the tiled sidewalks

the wide avenue lined with benches

the quiet splash of the fountains

and the old buildings with flowers overflowing from the windowsills

I’ve never thought much about homographs

they’re normal in English

but now that I teach, I see why they’re so difficult

you can live in France, watch Notre Dame burn live

walk through the entrance at school, or entrance a class with PB&J’s

identify the subject, or subject your students to torture by homographs

It’s the little things that matter

the dark cabinet full of old books

the way a child leaps into a puddle without hesitation

the buses that are never on time, but always arrive

the cars who stop for you when you’re not at a crosswalk

the woman who’s nice to you at the bakery, even if you don’t know her name

the coworker who makes you feel at home

Have you ever thought about your keyboard? Probably not since Elementary, when you learned to type. But isn’t it nice, that it never changes? The keys are always right where you expect them to be, with little dots on the F and the J to guide you. You don’t even have to look, because they are right there. Where you left them.

I never thought I’d miss Joplin, MO

the empty town

the constant racism

the religion

the lack of concern for health and education

but I do. I miss

the strangers who smile at you on the sidewalk

the friendliness

the wide open spaces, the love for cars

the grass that’s everywhere

the dogs hanging out of car windows

I never thought I’d miss Joplin, MO

but right now it feels like the place to be.

My grandma used to say it was God bowling, but

my grandpa would say God was arguing with his old lady

I’ve heard some say it’s because he’s sad

and it’s true, thunderstorms have always made me think of God