I came across this poem today that an old poetry student of mine wrote about small-town life. I find it so touching, and thought you all might enjoy it, too.

Wapello, Iowa
1980

Hot summer nights in Wapello, Iowa.

Small dogs yip and claw at screen doors

while young men cruise in wine-colored Buicks

and grey Ford pickups

up and down the same streets

over and over

catcalling to young, blue-jeaned girls

who smile as they pass middle-aged farmers

who now, without their John Deere caps,

are pink from the eyebrows down

and white from the eyebrows up.

There are three payphones in Wapello,

and one of them is broken,

but there is light –

light from the red, neon “EAT” sign in front of Mae’s diner,

light from the green, neon cross above the Baptist church,

light from the open doors of beige-and-orange trailers

trailing AM music near the baseball field,

and pure white light hidden inside the soul of every

resident of Wapello, Iowa,

who has to drive fifty miles to see a movie.

By Nancy Berg

 

 

 

 

Jessi Rita Hoffman … book editing by an industry professional