SUBURBANIZATION
Shaun Millard
The wayward consumer
constructed a strip mall
on every block,
packed to the brim
with everyday needs.
I wonder if downtown
misses her gravel banks
by the marshy swamp.
Ducks soon became fountains
and picnic benches.
Now the water glistens
like a hallmark card.
The reef spray painted silver,
sports memorabilia,
and I pulled teeth semiannually.
Ample parking concerns
Dominick’s more.
Mom and pop tombstones
found in frozen food’s aisle.
Starbuck’s sponsored
the township library,
please read corporate ethics
with a mocha cappuccino.
A lack of hills exist
in the Midwest,
but we had our own,
expending burnt horizons,
tumbling down the grassy knoll,
collapsing each dandelion,
one at a time,
face first into man-made forestry.
The architect must have roped
off the root and planted.
Snakefly trails measured
one hundred yards,
and a conduit edifice
hums incessantly.
Why does business
shake hands with gardens?
They are not meant to negotiate.