A small town slanted on a slight hill
in barren land. First building you see:
red brick with oriental trim. You say,
“A unique building,” and the road forks
into three. Road left, brief with old men
leaning on brick walls. They frown the sun away.
Middle road, oblique and long. Same red brick
buildings but without the trim. Same drab
roasting buildings. Young men and cafes.
You call it Main Street. The third road
you never see. You walk up Main Street.
You are hungry. You take this opportunity
to eat. You have no money. They throw you out.
You return to the brief street. You ask old men
“Where’s the unique building?” They frown
and turn away. You say, “I am a friend.”
You know wind will level this town.
You say, “Get out. The wind is on its way.”
The old men frown. The day darkens. You look
hard for the third road. You ask a giant, “Where?”
The giant glowers, “The third road is severe.”
You run and run. You cannot leave the town.