Saginaw, MI

Here is the valley under the honey mustard sun,
That stands all alone, unencumbered by the rays
Of the sea and the city. A town and a village.
It stands like the trees on a roadside that sway
Like the many plated cars that rage on its streets
Past the churches, the strip clubs and the shopping malls.
It seems so big to a small town boy,
But really, I know that it's very small.

The horizon stretches on to infinity.
The sun does not fall, it slowly sinks.
And the nighttime produces not many stars,
All the street lamps, they say, have killed the blink.
And no animals roam round except us men,
Of different colors and creeds and we walk the same,
Trapped here with such people that we've never met,
With only our silent sorrows here that remain. 

What do you mean? 

The liquid ecstacy and the hazy lights
That the night does offer is all that helps us,
Helps some of us by offering a small respite,
Helps most of us by being a breeze or a gust
Of cool wind in the hot, sweaty night,
All plutonian darkness that scares me so,
And most of all, it helps all of us,
By taking us where we need to go,

By reminding us that that thing called home
Is one to be missed and cherished much,
That I did not appreciate it when
I was there, and now I suffer such
Loneliness, but that too will pass,
And life will go on like it will,
Not only here in Saginaw 
But the world at large, that never does stay still.