Casey’s General Store

image from Foursquare

Small towns can thrive,

survive even,

people can be people

and move on, recognize, realize,

but some towns are ghost towns

with living relics routinely walking

to the one store ’round

for miles,

big white letters and reddish

store front beckoning

those off the highway

and those

coming ’round

to hear the tales

of a world that just might

exist,

where others come to squash

those fabled rumors

but

it just might exist anyway,

not a convenient pipe dream

or generalizations of the gates of hell

but a world beyond

the city limits

where there is a clear distinction

between values, value, choices,

even convenience,

a place

that just might

exist–

What’s that?

That was said already?

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For the record: I like Casey’s and I do not hate small towns. I was raised in a town of 800 people and one Casey’s General Store (but that’s a whole other story.) This poem is probably a metaphor or something like that 😉