Two-Cat Town

I grew up near a two-cat place, the oldest town in California not birthed as a hatchery for cities.

Cities progress: box store building blocks knocked over by urbanist toddlers, the Wild West mystique suffocated beneath the blooded remnants of new expansion.

If we concrete our problems away we can ignore the wide open spaces that burn at the center of our hearts.

In the rush of gold maybe we’ll find riches: cracked glass treasures laid over the skeleton of forgotten names. Maybe we’ll become a Diamondback lacking a tongue, lacking a mouth, lacking a voice.