in tiny town                   the line between lunacy and humor

is filament thin…     moving   striving   pushing   nudging and jostled daily

by strangers coming and going in this station       we now find a small minded  young woman

mistakenly given a taste   of control and power       re-creating her safety net of high school’s         mean-girl antics

trying them on for size in this,     a most inappropriate “more enlightened” venue

targeting one more        once again    to assuage her own fears and leftover insecurities…

while grasping desperately to claim her place as believable    and capable of her duties

in tiny town        she reopens this new chapter of    defining  self-worth and self-importance

with cruel jabs at others         targeting their frailness and age

whispering cutting jokes just loud enough to be heard           choosing to ignore

just this one           upon entering a roomful of fellow tiny town folk      and, best of all

in her shallow eyes, making fun of  another’s size and newfound physical disabilities          (the severity of which, have yet to be publicly disclosed…)

i am stuck here in tiny town          this town where i have found a culture of

passion for things that truly matter to me         a town where until now, i have found my place

but bad planning and                 unplanned blind-sightings

leave me stranded at this station      watching the clocktower       losing minutes and hours

feigning off the            blows of this one runaway train         whose de-railing cruelty

from this one        with a tiny bit of power in this tiny town     has brought up a lifetime of old

demons   best left buried in a aged past…

the station is empty at this hour

normally, its aisles and benches are filled with kind and true faces

knowledgeable young humans, astoundingly wise beyond their years

who have embraced an older woman’s tender heart and

continue to teach her so much..

but as always, it is the antics of one        that stick       from the  daggers carefully aimed

at the bulls eye on the hearts of the overly-sensitive

one, this singular elder,  is too weary     for battle again

one, who has seen too much of this in          a long-life’s past

is unable to stomach such nonsense

and is trapped        with no other trains in sight