Southside Lake St. Gunnigan

The Southside is the best side
All roads circularly lead to here
Two lanes with a gravel shoulder
An endless stream of cars seems to appear

In the North
They murder the tourists
Clicking their cameras
Wearing their Crocs
Looking for the perfect spot to Instagram
Until all the trinkets have been bought
The unique traditional recipes eaten
Local craft beers drank
It's into the tourist traps with them

To the East
Lay Changeling Fields
Where nothing is as it seems
And you are guaranteed to leave
A couple quarts low
As that sweet old man who shook your hand
Had an ulterior motive to his colloquialisms
Quaint though they be
A woven illusion is what they really were
While he and his kinfolk gathered to feed

The West is where the Mayor lives
Guiding Lake St. Gunnigan with a velvet glove
Always hiding that iron hand
That he got as a souvenir from a long ago war
Always grooming his vast estate grounds
Changing the landscaping every year
Deliveries of all that kind never seem to stop
Along with a curious amount of lye
He spreads a fine white powder every few days
Claiming it helps everything grow

The South is certainly the best though
Stay in the local Pine Log Lodge
Sit on the wide promenade porch
Overlooking the length of the whole lake
With waters primed for fishing
By artificial reefs made up of old cars
Whose?  You may ask
But that's not important now
Only that we have the tastiest Lake Trout in the region
Come for the weekend
Catch your limit

Then we'll catch you

Welcome to Lake St. Gunnigan!

-FDR08OCT2018

Bottled USA

Advancing with ambiguous intent
Powered by the most powerful ferment
That man has yet to invent
The fumes alone were enough to cloud your mind

"Oh give me a home...."
Sung out in a cracking mechanical falsetto
"O'er the ramparts we watched..."
Disconnected random lyrics layed down
Upon an uncertain melody
"Aux armes, citoyens, formez vos bataillons..."

Haunting snatches of tradition and patriotism
Distilled into nothingness
Now just comfort in a bottle
Hawked by a barker at the podium
A mobile stage rolling noisily by

I buy one
Because I must

Drinking it down
It burns away my doubt
Fortifies my sight
Cures my lead poisoning
And I can think clearly
For the first time in years

But then it passes just as quickly
So I take another swig
And the promised effects take hold
Giving me enough to chase after the contraption
One hand in my pocket digging for coin
The other holding fast to the elixir

With enough of this in my cupboard
Perhaps I can make it through yet another day


-FDR07OCT2018