life in a small town

For the moment
I live in a small town.
I grew up in a small town
so not all is unfamiliar...
though the small town
I grew up in was
on the outskirts of a
mega town...
Houston.

For now
I am here.
Sitting in my office I hear
my dogs bark
and the neighbor's dog
bark.

Don't tell my neighbor.
He doesn't think
his dog barks,
though he is highly
sensitive to the
barking my dogs
share.

In protest
to what my dogs had
to offer one night ...
my neighbor
threw a beer bottle
their way.
It crashed to slivers
on my patio.

It's a small town.
I know my neighbor...
not because he talks
but because others
do.
He's a good guy...
young...
in need of perspective.

The small wood chapel
next to the post office
is being painted.
Four prisoners were
at work this morning.
One singing while
he brushed on
a coat of fresh white.
Seems this small town
gets a lot done
with the help of
prisoners.

As I stepped to
the front of the post office...
an old man yelled for me
in his truck.

"Can you get my mail for me...
it's box 478."

Our post office is not
accessible for people
who need it to be...
so today
I delivered the mail.
It's just what happens in a small town.

On President's day
when the downtown square
was a ghost town...
post office,
bank,
lawyers,
beautician,
antiques...
all closed for the day.

But in this small town...
on the steps of an
enormous
Texas-sized courthouse
one man found it
necessary
to shoot
and kill
the woman
he was with.
In the end he killed
himself....
just four blocks down
from the quiet office
where I work.

Life
cannot be taken
for granted,
even
in a
small town.