the etiquette of charity

between fields.
dandelion and curled leaves,
prolonged in their visit.
or rather, a stay
in hospice care.

to what extent
do we say,
Southern hospitality’s
been shot in the face?

I couldn’t answer.
my accent’s unlike
what tourists expected
or shop owners wanted
to hear
when I opted for palm readings,
reading the whiteboard
outside Lucky Village.

towards anger.
an overpass and clasped hands,
caramelized by the dull of June.
and yet, applauding
to ancillary “How’s your day?”s .


3 thoughts on “the etiquette of charity

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