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.
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