Nature has its way
of aging the kindest stray
into a single-minded ideal
for fortune and fame.
The blind torment of intrusive thought
meddles above as a storm cloud on a sunny day.
What a terrible end,
trapped in time
with a sinner's reprise.
Yet small-town-syndrome takes its victims,
then devours them to inflate its leaky ego.
I've settled into a sound speculation
of suburban civics.
