Be damned,

I’m going
On my
Death
Drive.

—-

Mid-west
Mid-best

You were
The seasons
I hadn’t
Accounted
For loving.

My springs
And my
Summers.

—-

You are my
roasted Corn
cobs & spiced
Elephant Ears,

Who,
Left to
Your own
Device,

Refused
To Forget

What
They
Herd.