two tiny towns
edged off a farm-to-market
road. back in the day they
used to hate each other. now,
who can remember
the pain or crime that caused
sour blood between neighbors?
no one
recalls either settlement.
you'd have to be born there
decades back, or marry
rural. otherwise you wait till a tornado tears
through. or a cell tower sprouts up,
reaching high, cloud pointing. hell, the signal
goes the same way our prayers go.
fate will put them in the news eventually.
we'll keep them in our thoughts as long as we can spare.